


A Winter Solstice

by Waltzfor-Zizi (azro_zee)



Series: Solstitium [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Soul Eater
Genre: Amoral research, Blair is the best cat to ever cat, Blood and Violence, F/F, F/M, Fullmetal Alchemist AU - freeform, Human Experimentation, Language, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, PTSD!Soul, Resbang 2019, and a lot of alchemy bulshitting, gunfights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:55:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 103,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21729391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azro_zee/pseuds/Waltzfor-Zizi
Summary: Inheriting Mama’s way of life had always been about dedicating her life to alchemy, in the form of a silver pocket watch. It wasn’t supposed to include fighting immortal beings, and especially not in the form of an awkward Ishvalan boy.Following his savior’s guidance had led him to the remnants of a dead city, in hiding. It wasn’t supposed to include joining forces with the military, and especially not in the form of a strangely too familiar green-eyed girl. [Fullmetal Alchemist AU]
Relationships: Black Star/Nakatsukasa Tsubaki, Death the Kid/Liz Thompson, Kim Diehl/Jacqueline O. Lantern Dupré, Maka Albarn/Soul Eater Evans, Marie Mjolnir/Franken Stein
Series: Solstitium [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691449
Comments: 91
Kudos: 184
Collections: Soul Eater Resonance Bang 2019





	1. Death City Isn’t A Proper Place To Make Friends

**Author's Note:**

> It's. My. First. Resbang. Ever.
> 
> This is such a rollercoaster to write but I'm so happy I did!
> 
> My partner was the lovely aiilovh ! Who had made the totally stunning piece inserted in chapter 1! You're awesome, sweetie!
> 
> This fic wouldn't survive if not for these human-looking angels, my sis Bulan, Ash, infantblue, zxanthe, for lending their eyes and guide me through the absolute nonsense that is the English language. Seriously, you guys are angels. Except you, Chloe, you cruel woman.
> 
> Big thanks for the entire Grigoriwings family, and the resbangmod for the awesome modding!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wes, will you forgive me if I leave you?”

__

* * *

_“But Kamiko, honey, you can’t do this!”_

These were the last words Papa spoke to Mama.

_“You had your chances, Spirit. And I have my decision.”_

These were the last words Mama spoke to Papa.

_“I love you, darling… I love you… I love you…”_

They were the last words Mama spoke to her.

_“I love you too, Mama…”_

And they were the last words she spoke to Mama, with a horrible foreboding that they might not see each other again.

* * *

She closed the book with a why-bother-to-count-anymoreth disappointed growl. The black cat on her lap hissed at the disturbance and threw her a dirty look before continuing her nap.

As usual, no decent results.

“Oh, fuck me sideways…” she grumbled. Her cat meowed a sharp yowl that eerily sounded like a scolding mother. She ignored her. There were more frustrating things than a cat commenting on your language.

She had already lost count of how many weeks she'd spent in this particular corner of her huge library, trying to crack her latest finds in Mama’s research document.

“Who exactly was the asshole that invented alchemical coding and then thought it was a great idea to use it in research?” she asked her cat, but of course the feline wouldn’t answer; she was not an alchemist.

Mama was an astounding alchemist. Possibly the best to have ever been born in generations. Her state alchemist certificate was enough proof of her ability, but even other alchemists saw her as someone to aspire to. She had invented dozens of new alchemy techniques and theories in the thirty years of her life, and they had helped their country’s alchemy to progress at least five decades faster than expected.

Mama was most known for her research in biology transmutation, but it wasn’t a secret that she was also a lethal goddess on the front lines. She had the strange ability to ‘sense souls’ and do long distance transmutations. Her transmutations also sparked light green in the distinct shape of angel wings; a signature of hers. It was quite a sight to behold, hence why people called her the Angel of Death, and why the Führer granted her the name Grigori.

But _she_ knew Mama was even more amazing than she let on. _She_ knew there were still hundreds of pages of Mama’s unpublished and unfinished research scattered all around Amestris. She'd always had a hidden laboratory everywhere she’d traveled.

Oddly, despite her vast official publications of basic theories and common alchemy, Mama had never released anything about the secret of her own bizarre alchemy, which she called _alkahestry_ , before her untimely death.

Of course, after Mama was gone, people started to hunt down the rest of her works like beggars searching a gold mine. The secrets of the Grigori Alchemist promised tremendous powers and unthinkable possibilities. It could be both a new light of hope for medical science as well as an ugly weapon of war.

Which was why it had to be _her_ who gathered and deciphered her research. It was only _her_ who knew both Mama’s alchemy and alkahestry, and probably the only one who didn’t want to take advantage of it.

“Sometimes I wonder if Mama sold her soul to Lucifer to make a code like this,” she groaned to no one. The cat on her lap meowed as if answering her. “Oh, I’m sorry, Blair. I forgot as the queen of the underworld you only take crème as an offering, not souls,” she snorted, refraining to roll her eyes. The feline let out a smug purr.

She must have gone mad if she thought she could understand a cat. But alchemy research tended to do that to people. Going mad, that is, not talking to a cat. That was mostly her.

She picked a new pen (the previous one was laying pitifully on the floor, snapped in half) and started scribbling again. There had to be a way. As Mama’s only pupil, she must not forget about Mama’s most important rule; _it’s never magic, human brains just can’t understand it yet._

Maka Albarn was a carbon copy of her Mama. People had told her many times that looking at her was eerily similar to looking at Kamiko Albarn. Both their looks and alchemy were exactly alike. From their sandy hair and their round faces, to their ability to sense souls and the green angel wing sparks they made. Even their characters were alike. Both were fierce, headstrong and forces to be reckoned with. They were so similar to the point where the Führer granted them the same title when Maka got her certification.

But Maka Albarn was also not a carbon copy of her Mama. She was more like a cheap knockoff, she supposed. She was not as strong as Mama nor as unnervingly intelligent. Instead of being born a prodigy like Mama, Maka had to work and study ten times harder.

But she was more than happy to do that, because Mama was her world.

Truthfully, her main reason to apply for the State Alchemist Program was to dedicate herself to Mama’s world. To make sure her lifetime of work was not buried for eternity, and, more importantly, to make sure it did not fall into the wrong hands and end up being weapons, if they ever did resurface. Because she wasn’t naïve enough to believe that the military didn’t want Mama’s research for their own benefit, proven by how eager they were to encourage her deciphering Mama’s research instead of starting her own.

And the rest of her reasons were definitely not to keep Papa from forgetting his former wife or to see him crawling with guilt every time he looked at her or heard her title. No.

“Maka-chan?”

Maka perked up at the creaking door. Her Xingese friend Tsubaki peeked from the crack, holding a tray of food and hot milk.

“You should rest and eat a little, Maka-chan. You won’t hear the end of it from Myra if you catch something.”

Maka smiled at the older woman. “I won’t hear the end of it from you either, Tsubaki-chan.”

Tsubaki Nakatsukasa was one of her closest childhood friends. Because the Nakatsukasas were the same ethnicity as her Mama, she was the next best thing Maka had to study the eastern language and customs from. They often spoke to each other in Xingnese, like they were now.

Tsubaki gave her a frown, lifting the food closer, and Maka responded with a defeated look before nibbling her toast without passion. Her other hand was busy keeping Blair from trying to steal her milk, as the cat could end up spilling it all over her notes, considering how energetic she was when playing with food. Maka was aware that she needed food, after all. As Auntie Myra often said, she couldn’t live only by telling herself she could photosynthesize.

“Any progress with the project?” Tsubaki asked gently.

As an answer, Maka dropped her head on the table and whimpered, huffing a stray strand of hair from her face. Tsubaki couldn’t help but chuckle in sympathy.

Sometimes it was just so hard living up to Mama’s legacy. Getting her hands on the documents alone wasn’t enough to unlock the knowledge. Coding their research was an unspoken rule for any alchemist, and Mama was never half-hearted with her codes. Sometimes it was draining, borderline frustrating, to even just decipher it, let alone to continue the research.

Maka had already collected and completed much of Mama’s lost research ten times faster than any other alchemist who ever tried. People showered her with compliments, assuming she was just as much a genius as her Mama was; a prodigy. But no. She was no prodigy. She was just luckier because she had been taught alchemy directly by Mama.

It was never easy. There were many hours full of depression and self-loathing between those accomplishments. Like now.

She was just Maka Albarn, a normal human, not the Angel of Death.

Tsubaki set the tray down and curiously inspected the documents Maka was working on. To her, it appeared as a very engaging novel about the adventure of a woman’s journey to the east.

“What is this one about?”

“Apparently it’s about developing prosthetic limbs. I mean, true, flesh and bone prosthetic limbs,” Maka murmured, “That, or an extremely detailed way of gutting a sturgeon.”

Tsubaki’s laugh rang in the room filled with dangerously too many books. “I don’t think Black☆Star will be very delighted to hear about the prospect of fleshy prosthetic limbs.”

Maka snorted at the thought of her other childhood friend, who happened to be Tsubaki’s husband. He also happened to be one of the best automail engineers this side of the country. “Limbs are supposed to be made of flesh and bone. Black☆Star can go stuff his ass with molten steel.”

Tsubaki made no reaction towards Maka’s language, too used to her friend spewing out un-ladylike comments, which would undoubtedly be met with ruder insults by her sailor-mouthed husband.

“And I still can’t figure out this key part of the code! I must have missed something! Or used the wrong combinations!” Maka ranted. While Tsubaki was not, in fact, an alchemist, she was a wonderful listener. “There’s something vaguely familiar about this document but I don’t know what it is! I already tried everything but something’s just not adding up!”

Blair was hissing again from Maka’s volume and uncontrolled flailing. She jumped from Maka’s lap to Tsubaki’s, who started to stroke her fur gently.

“Now, Maka-chan, I always told you that your weakness is that you tend to draw conclusions before seeing the whole picture. And that looking at it from different perspective also helps most of the time.”

Tsubaki patted Maka’s hair with a smile. For the nth time Maka thought about how wonderful a mother Tsubaki would be, glancing at the still flat belly of the one-month pregnant woman (they had just found out three days before and Maka feared she would go deaf from Black☆Star’s triumphant hoots and yells at the news). She practically was her mother figure since Maka lost her Mama ten years ago. Or more accurately, older sister figure, because the three of them had basically been raised by Black☆Star’s adoptive mother Myra and her husband Sid.

“Maybe you’re right. I’ve locked myself in this room for so long, I don’t even know what day it is.”

Tsubaki perked at her words. “Then finish your meal. I think Black☆Star would be up for a little sparring match if you agreed to take a breather.”

Maka smiled. “Great.”

* * *

Kid scowled from behind the wheel again, glaring daggers at his Lieutenant in the passenger seat beside him.

“This is the third time this month, Liz! Third!”

His Lieutenant ignored him to sulk. The cause of their argument was in the backseat; a broken sniper rifle held by the Lieutenant’s younger sister, who toyed with it as if she was in a very exciting shooting game.

“That’s because you bought me a cheap one, Kid! I told you I wanted those babes from the North!”

“I was under the impression that you’d actually use it to _shoot_ at your targets, Elizabeth! Not to _bash_ their skulls!”

“With all due respect, Sir, I bashed their skulls under your command!” Liz sassed back, growling at her superior.

Kid sighed, “The least you could do was to break it symmetrically.”

Their banter was swallowed by Liz’s younger sister’s voice, who apparently was very engrossed in her imagination and was starting to yell _‘Pew! Pew!’_ while pointing the rifle at random people outside. The magazine was empty, yes, but it undoubtedly would cause a ruckus if she did it for much longer.

“Patricia, put it back!”

The younger girl pouted, “But Kiiiiid, you never let me play with the long ones!”

“That’s because they’re not toys, Patty! People will get freaked out if you point that thing at them. And your pair of Berettas are enough for you!”

The real reason Kid did not allow the childish Sergeant to use long ranged weapons was because she had the attention span of a Chihuahua, and tended to miss 80% of her targets above the 200-yard mark. Her short-ranged shots, however, were the best in the whole East Province. Her agility and shooting speed were unparalleled in a close-ranged gunfight.

On the contrary, her big sister Elizabeth was known for her absurdly long-ranged shots and deadly accuracy. She could clear a moving target in a 800-yard radius without problem, making her one of the most lethal sniper in Amestris.

Many envied him, because he was still in his mid-twenties, already a Colonel as well as an accomplished State Alchemist, and had the talented Thompson Sisters under his command.

“I might as well get you that northern rifle you wanted so much. I can’t afford any more errors during a mission.”

Liz immediately brightened, “For real?! Ah, Kid, I love you!” she attempted to attack him with a hug, the car’s tires screeching dangerously as Kid tried to pry her off of him.

“Liz! Driving!”

She let him go, to his great relief, but she was still grinning madly, chanting some sort of war song about guns and rifles with her sister. Kid smiled inwardly. In the end, he could never deny them anything.

They stopped at Barrett’s Automails, the most famous automail shop in Gallows Hill.

Sid Barrett, the owner of the shop, suddenly appeared from nowhere, smiling his face-splitting grin. “Colonel! What can I help you with?”

He had two secret errands, but the guns must definitely come first if he didn’t want to deal with any mad Thompson sisters.

“Repairs. And some maintenance,” Kid gave him the rifle bag.

Sid raised an eyebrow, “Again?”

The Colonel sighed, “You know how they are.” And after a too enthusiastic nudge from Liz, he added, “And we might want to see your new things.”

The owner grinned with a wink. “Got it, Sir.”

Before they could go further to the shop, Patty chimed in, “Where’s Maka?”

Sid gave a shrug, “Last I saw her, she had built a nest in her library. Again. But Tsubaki might’ve succeeded in coaxing her out of her lair to spar with Black☆Star.”

“Okay!” Not waiting for a reply, Patty trotted happily out the back of the shop, where she knew there was a large field the owner’s son was often sparring in.

“Don’t wander too far!” Kid shouted at her back. Sometimes he felt like a father with two very mischievous daughters instead of a Colonel with his subordinates.

Sighing for heavens knew how many times that day, he followed behind Sid and Liz to the depths of the shop. They stopped at a seemingly normal hall before Sid pulled a specific book from the bookshelf. With a creak, an opening suddenly appeared in the once ordinary floor. Sid jerked his head as a sign for them to climb down.

The place they arrived to was enormous. Every surface of it was coated with all kinds of weapons and firearms of any range and deadliness. This was the other side of the Barret Shop the Colonel was more acquainted with.

“Go on, Liz!” he gestured, met by a cheer from the older Thompson.

As an alchemist, Kid rarely used guns. He himself was a weapon. He mostly visited Sid’s _other shop_ for Liz and Patty, or for arming his other chosen subordinates. Military issued guns wouldn’t do for the majority of his plans, because every bullet was registered and recorded.

And that wouldn’t be good for his personal agenda.

* * *

Maka drank her cold water with a grumble, watching Black☆Star spar with Patty. Sparring should be a recreational activity for her, but losing to Black☆Star three times in a row only irked her foul mood further.

“Miss Albarn.” A calm but amused voice reached her ears.

Maka lifted her face, grinning at the two people who walked towards her from the direction of the shop, and answered with the same playful tone. “Colonel Morton, Sir.”

“I thought it was you Black☆Star was supposed to be sparring with?”

The aforementioned automail engineer was yelling a greeting to him between punches and kicks. The Colonel replied with a small wave. Black☆Star’s attention quickly turned back to Patty when she managed to land a rough blow to his left shoulder. Meanwhile, Maka was crushed into a suffocating hug by Patty’s older sister before she could manage an unamused “eh…” at the Colonel.

Liz chuckled at her tone, “Cheer up, Maka, you’ll rust all the automails with your sour look.” Maka smiled slightly at her teasing. “Stuck again?”

She grimaced. She was happy all of her friends were so caring, from Tsubaki with her motherly hovering, Black☆Star with his loud and obnoxious way of expressing his concern, to Kid and his subordinate’s will to drive a hundred miles just to check on her at least once a week.

But every time they asked about her progress, a cold sensation filled her chest as her brain began its self-loathing routine, again consumed by thoughts of not living up to Mama’s legacy. The feeling always worsened when she saw their sympathetic smiles.

“Then maybe you could use my help?” Kid smiled, “I’m supposed to monitor your progress, after all.”

Both Maka and Liz stared at him like he just proposed he’d quit being alchemist and take ballet lessons instead. Maka Albarn had a stubborn policy of never asking anyone for help, and Kristopher Ignatius Damian Morton had a strange policy of never letting himself in on other people’s research.

People said he had too much of a holier-than-thou aura and was too arrogant to work with others, but Maka knew it was just that he already completed six projects and had another two he was still working on. He just didn’t want to raise the count, because eight was a perfect number and his obsessive compulsive tendencies would definitely force him to stick to a research topic which he would definitely end up being the official contributor to.

“Are you seriously Kid Morton?” Maka said, holding herself from snorting.

Liz was not as successful in hiding her laugh, “What happened to the eight projects policy?”

Maka saw Kid’s eye twitch; his general response when he was thinking about something but didn’t want to voice it out. “Is it wrong to help a friend in need? And besides, I’m just gonna give her some input, not officially assist her.”

“Are you really serious?” Maka asked again, still incredulous.

“Yes, why?”

“If you end up too invested in this, I am not dragging you out,” Liz warned.

Maka mulled on her choice to take the help. Kid was one of the most brilliant alchemists she knew. He could undoubtedly give invaluable input to her project, considering that he was also one of the very few alchemists who Mama trusted enough to allow a peek at her alkahestry.

And her progress had been halted. Completely. For months.

On the other hand, Maka never let anyone in on her projects, let alone an alchemist. The curious and greedy nature of humans often blinded them, and the things Maka was working on were the goldmine equivalent of knowledge and power.

But Kid had always been an exception. He was the only male she never had problems receiving help from, and she knew he would never use Mama’s research to his own advantage. Even though she knew he had _plans._

So she smiled back, ignoring Black☆Star’s yells that she ran from their fights, and led them to her stuffy library. Liz trailed behind them, obviously not because she also wanted to—or could—help, but because she knew Albarn family’s library had a corner full of fashion magazines (which Maka suspected were once possessions of Papa’s incalculably _lady friends_ ) and another corner full of books on guns and weapons, courtesy of her Papa and Sid Barrett.

“So this is the part that always throws me into an endless loop,” Maka pointed at a page in her notes, “I even tried to use both Helmont Theory and Flamel’s Fifth Law but nothing ever makes sense in the end.”

Kid hummed. He reached for her notes and started scribbling nonsense onto a blank paper. Maka waited restlessly for his input, checking diagrams and circles for clues of where she went wrong.

Finally, after an hour or two, Kid spoke, “Maka?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you ever use alkahestry as a base to decipher any of Mrs. Kamiko’s documents before?”

“No?” Maka raised her eyebrow, “Mama was strict about never recording alkahestry research into writing.”

“I thought so,” Kid slid his own notes closer, “Here. You can’t see it unless you think of each diagram as a turning point. The ‘dragon’ here doesn’t mean ‘transmutation process’, but rather ‘path’. And if you look at it as a whole, the composition is nowhere near any of the common theories, but rather resembling yours and Mrs. Kamiko’s unique alchemy, or as she named it, alkahestry.”

“Let me see!”

Maka’s chair screeched when she hastily took the paper and eagerly read the notes. She noted that Kid’s writing was so neat and organized compared to hers, making it really easy to understand. She nearly slapped herself for how stupid she had been. She was the only alchemist who had studied under Mama’s guidance. The only alkahestrist alive, she dare say. How could she have never spot all these too familiar symbols?

Of course Tsubaki had been right. She tended to jump to conclusions before seeing the whole picture.

To think that the one working it out was another alchemist who'd never actually studied alkahestry.

“Oh my god… you’re right…” she heard herself whispering, “It fits.”

“So maybe we should try this again from the top using alkahestry? Even if I’m not so sure I could be of more help.”

Maka waved him off, “Nonsense, Kid, if anyone could have any understanding of what I’m working on, it would be you! And I always appreciate your opinion!”

At that, Kid smiled genuinely.

They both worked until the sky turned red. They didn’t even realize Patty had joined her sister and was reading Maka’s old picture books aloud.

“It’s done.” Maka exhaled in a mix of triumph and exhaustion.

“This is clearly not what I think it was before,” Kid said.

The completed document they had deciphered was neither research on prosthetic limbs nor a guide for gutting a sturgeon. It wasn’t even an alchemy research.

It was a map.

“Wow, neat!” Liz suddenly jumped in. “Where do you think this leads to?”

“What I wanna know is why she’d take the trouble to double-code a map, and with alkahestry. I take it she never did that before?” Kid said.

Maka nodded in silence. Yes. Mama’s documents always used common theories and standard laws. Any alchemist could decipher the code if they tried hard enough. But this document was different. Mama downright used the principles of alkahestry as a base to the code.

An anomaly.

Maka was Mama’s first and last student, and the only alchemist alive who could use alkahestry. It was as if Mama purposely coded this particular document for Maka to decipher.

What for?

“The directions of the dragon path lead us here,” Maka circled the town of Clamstein on the scribbled map, “From here, then to this town, here, here, and here. It’s all pointing to this general area.” Maka’s pencil stopped in the middle of no man’s land on the east side of Amestris.

“But that’s the desert!” Liz said, raising her well-groomed eyebrow.

“No. That’s not just the desert,” Kid chided, hand on his chin. “There’s a legend that in the middle of the sand sea, there are ruins of Xerxes, the ancient kingdom where it is said alchemy was first discovered. It’s also said that all people of the kingdom, from the king to the littlest slave, disappeared within a night. Not a single soul remained.”

“And that’s why people now call it Death City,” Maka finished absently, still wondering why Mama seemed to guide her to a giant ancient cemetery.

“D-d-d-death city?” Liz screeched. Ah, yes. Maka almost forgot the elder Thompson’s aversion to the supernatural.

“I must go there,” Maka heard herself say. “By myself.”

“But Maka, it’s in the middle of the desert! At least let us accompany you!” Kid protested.

“T-to the Death City? Are you crazy?” Liz hissed behind him and Patty chose that moment to jump into the discussion, chanting _‘I wanna go too!’_ beside her sister. No one paid them any attention.

Somehow, Maka had already steeled her resolve. The map was obviously for her, and deep within her heart, she knew Mama wanted her to go by herself.

“No, Kid. You three have a duty to the military. Someone is bound to notice if you go with me,” she reasoned. “And besides, like you said, it was the first time Mama ever used alkahestry as a code. I think it’s her way of saying it has to be me.”

Kid appeared lost in his thoughts, a frown carved deeply in his handsome face.

“I will be okay, Kid. You know I can take care of myself,” she insisted.

Finally, Kid let out a heavy breath, “Fine. But if there’s no news of you in four days, we’ll follow you there!”

Maka beamed, already planning what to pack for the trip.

* * *

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

Tsubaki was sitting on Maka’s bed, watching her pack things into a medium-sized bag while singing off-key. The younger girl practically glowed after Kid’s visit the day before, saying that she had a very promising clue on her current project.

Maka replied with a shake of her head, beaming, “You’re a mother now, Tsubaki-chan. I can’t drag you along like I used to.”

Tsubaki grimaced. The thing about marrying and having a baby was that she couldn’t follow Maka as closely anymore.

She had always accompanied Maka to whatever weird places all over the country her mission to collect all of Mrs. Kamiko’s research took her; an old oath she made to her brother. But things had changed. Mrs. Kamiko was gone. Her brother was gone. There was no one who would demand for her to continue her old duty, and as Mr. Spirit had said to her on the day Black☆Star proposed, Maka could take care of herself splendidly, and she didn’t have to follow Maka’s every step anymore. She deserved to chase her own happiness and start her own life.

She knew Maka would say the exact same words if presented with the truth. Both Maka and Mrs. Kamiko would. They were kind-hearted like that.

“Where do you wanna go this time?” She spoke with the most casual tone she could muster, trying to distract herself from her thoughts.

Maka hummed, “Well, I don’t know for sure, but the first stop will be the ruins of Xerxes.”

What?!

“What?!”

“You heard me,” Maka actually giggled, “Death City! Isn’t that exciting?”

“B-but Maka-chan, isn’t it like in the middle of the desert?!”

Tsubaki expected epic journeys to a weird part of the country, yes, but not this.

Before Maka could answer, however, the door slammed open revealing a very distraught Spirit Albarn panting heavily inside. “Darling, no! You can’t go!”

In an instant, Maka’s expression turned sour. “I can go wherever I want, Papa!”

“But, dear, the desert! It’s dangerous! The sun will burn you! And—and there’s so many unfriendly things out there!”

“Are you seriously saying that with a straight face, after all this time?” Maka spat, “And news flash, I’m a _State Alchemist,_ Papa. I think I can handle a few _unfriendly things_.”

Tsubaki could hear Mr. Spirit’s flinch. She knew Mr. Spirit did a poor job at parenting by leaving Maka in the Barrett family’s care and choosing his _ladies’_ company instead. The most parental thing he’d done was to pop up once in a while, annoying her and gushing all over her as if she was five. But Tsubaki also knew he never wholly approved of Maka being an alchemist, let alone entering the State Alchemist program. Unfortunately for him, there was no one more stubborn than Maka Albarn with a goal set before her.

“You don’t have to do this… This wasn’t what Mama wanted you to do, darling… She would never—”

Now it was Tsubaki’s turn to flinch. Mr. Spirit had pushed the wrong button.

“Well, maybe I could hear it directly from her if you didn’t make her leave with all your disgusting affairs!” Maka thundered, “Maybe she’d still be here! Alive! Keeping me home instead of wandering all over the country to scratch the dirt for her mementos!” With that, she snatched her bag and stormed out of the room with a sniffle.

“Maka-chan! Maka-chan, wait!”

Tsubaki wanted to go after her, but was held by the elder Albarn. Her protest died in her throat when she saw the eyes of a broken-hearted man.

* * *

Maka wiped her eyes yet again.

She had managed to not shed any tears during the train trip. But now, being alone at the edge of the world, where the green grass met the sparkly sand, she could finally let her tears spill.

The atmosphere was perfect for angsting. There was comforting silence all around her, broken only by the sound of her horse’s hooves. She somehow felt like a terrible burden she hadn’t known she'd been shouldering was lifted from her shoulders, replaced by the gentle but painful memory of her Mama. She felt airy. Light. And everything around her was surreal. The memory of Mama made the dragon paths under the sand flowing more solidly, as if the earthen river of energy also wanted to help her reliving Mama’s gentle words in her alkahestry lessons.

The moon was hanging high in the starry sky, a blissfully cool breeze in place of the blazing sun expected from a desert. Orion was still bright near the eastern horizon, guiding her straight to the Death City. It was oddly calming and sad to see the Milky Way flowing above her head. Mama had taught her astronomy as much as alchemy, since stargazing was one of Mama’s hobbies. She smiled wearily to the moon. Going alone hadn’t been such a bad idea, after all.

Actually, she was not that alone. There were suspicious meows coming from her bag. With a frown, she unzipped the bag and a tiny head full of black fur popped out.

“Blair?! What are you doing here?!”

Apparently she had been too distracted by her thoughts and the dragon path to feel the animal soul inside her bag. The cat must have jumped into it when she was yelling at her Papa. 

This was a pleasant and calming surprise, however, to know she was not entirely alone. She snuggled Blair closer to her heart as the cat purred contentedly.

“When the heat comes, I am not hearing any of your complaints.”

* * *

The desert was so fucking hot.

Okay, that was obvious, but still, it wouldn’t stop her from trying to pick a fight with the sun. If only that dumb celestial body would get down here so she could punch it, the coward.

Blair seemed to agree with her, growling at the source of the heat from inside her bag. She was luckier than Maka, because Maka didn’t have anything to shade herself beside the hood of her coat.

She could already see the ruins, but didn’t have the heart to urge her horse faster. The poor animal was probably feeling fifty times as bad as her. Besides, they had to conserve their energy.

But as Mama often said, miracles tend to happen to those who least expect it. All of a sudden, the ruins got rapidly bigger and nearer. And within half of an hour, her horse stepped onto Death City’s outermost stone.

The ruins were unspeakably amazing. There were tons of stories carved silently on every piece of rubble and wrecked wall. The architecture spoke of a very advanced civilization. Well, she’d only find out about it later, because she didn’t waste any time to sightsee. Her first priority was to find something she could transmute into water. It wasn’t an easy task, however, because the city was, of course, dead.

Before the last ounce of her energy left her, a miracle presented itself in the form of a large ancient stone fountain full of fresh water. Wasting no time, she got off her horse and sprinted to it with newfound strength, drinking the water greedily.

Forget the Philosopher's Stone, water _was_ the most phenomenal and powerful substance on the planet.

Blair outright jumped in the water, swimming happily. Not even her horse waited for permission to dunk his head in the fountain. Luckily for her she remembered to refill all of her bottles before they polluted the water.

She then joined her companions to soak. Best decision ever. It was blissful.

At some point she could feel Blair walking away. The ever curious cat might be exploring the area, searching for something amusing to entertain herself. Maka wasn’t worried. She could just tap her soul perception open and find the creature with ease any time she wanted.

But now, bath first.

The sky was starting to transition to purple when she got fully dressed again. She was absently thinking about searching for Blair when she felt a cold edge of a blade tickling her neck.

Perfect timing, Mr. Blade Holder, just as she was about to activate her perception.

Well, who could blame her for not keeping her radar up at all time? She was so tired and this was Death City. No one was supposed to live here.

Apparently she had been wrong.

But one thing she was certain of, whatever Mama had left for her, it definitely wasn’t this.

“Who are you?”

The voice was deep and rich, definitely a man’s, with a harsh edge and a rasp as if it had not been used for a long time.

If she could just distract this guy for a second, she might get a chance to escape. The downside of bathing was that she tended to peel off her transmutation gloves first and slip them on again last, so now she couldn’t immediately do anything to cause a distraction without having her throat cut first.

Of course, miracles tend to happen to those who least expect it. A blob of black bolted from somewhere and perched on a broken pillar beside them, hissing. Both the guy and Maka involuntarily whipped their heads to that direction, but Maka had been quicker to respond.

In a swift fluid motion, Maka ducked under the guy’s blade and jumped forward, creating a nice three-meter distance between them. She turned in an instant, both gloves already on her hands. The hissing black blob dashed to her and growled beside her foot. Now that her radar was fully in combat mode, she could sense it was Blair.

However, Blair couldn’t keep her attention for long. Her assailant was far more intriguing.

One, the man in front of her had a white mess of hair that stuck in all directions, a tan complexion and a pair of piercing deep red eyes; absolutely an Ishvalan. About her age, give or take a few years.

Two, he strangely was as shocked as she was.

Three, the blade that had been pushing on her neck a few moments before wasn’t any common blade. It was wide, with an ominous color of red and black, but the most impossible thing about it was that it was attached to the boy’s right arm. It was definitely not automail, because there was no clear line between flesh and steel. Instead, where arm became blade, there was a texture of alchemical transmutation.

And four, she had to double-check on her Soul Perception because _he had_ _two souls._

She didn’t have the time to think any further before the guy started to speak with shock and uncertainty in his voice, “Mrs… Kamiko?”

Maka’s eyes widened, “You know my Mama?”

They certainly enjoyed outshocking each other, apparently. It was the Ishvalan guy’s turn to be taken aback. He tentatively dropped his fighting stance and lowered his blade arm. “You’re not her?”

“I just said she was my Mama,” Maka replied with a flat tone, warily lowering her own hand.

“Oh.” His walls seemed to crumble all of a sudden, his eyes leaving her face as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. The absence of his previous guardedness made a shocking change in him. He was no longer fierce now that he had stopped snarling with those unnervingly sharp teeth. Suddenly he looked awkward and introverted.

With a spark of green light, his right arm turned into bone and flesh, to Maka’s eternal surprise. The boy himself didn’t seem affected at all, as if the thing he just did was as trivial as zipping up his jacket or lowering his hood.

His aggression had been replaced with wariness and silence. He kept stealing glances at Maka as if unsure what to say or do, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and shifting his weight every other second. Maka wondered if he didn’t know how to handle normal communication. Fortunately for him, she decided to take the first move.

“Who are you? And how did you know my Mama?”

He stole one more glance before mumbling, “…Soul.”

Maka unconsciously took a step towards him. “Sorry?”

“Uh, my name,” he said, still in that raspy, tentative voice, “It’s… Soul.”

“Okay. Soul.” Maka nodded, and she might be imagining that his eyes lit up when she said his name. “Who are you and how did you know my Mama?”

Instead of answering her question, the boy, Soul, gave her a very strange look. “So you’re… Maka?”

Maka’s eyes widened yet again. This guy really liked to surprise her, it seemed. “Wha—how do you know my name? _Who are you?!_ ” As it tended to do when confused or surprised, her voice raised to a yell.

Soul’s posture stiffened and his expression became uncomfortable. The guarded look he wore before appeared once more. He held her eyes as his voice dropped, “I was one of your mother’s test subjects.”

She couldn’t help the shout, “What?!”

* * *

It was a boring day, like every other day, when he lazily napped beside Wes’s grave.

The grave was located in the heart of the oasis, beneath an old tree, in a place that might have been some kind of park when the city was still civilized. Hard to think he was in the middle of a desert when he napped there.

The first stars and constellations already presented themselves in the rapidly darkening sky. It reminded him of how much the brothers used to stargaze. He thought of how they earned their names as Canis Major, which Wes had gotten his name from, was starting to appear.

His peace was only interrupted by occasional snide remarks from the Little Demon inside his brain. He ignored the Demon quite easily, having mastered The Art of Not Giving a Fuck since he was sixteen.

Since Wes had died.

He rolled onto his stomach, peeking at the marble gravestone with ‘Wezen’ carved roughly on it. It was a peaceful dusk with nothing particularly interesting about it. This was when he missed Wes the most. His big brother had the uncanny ability to piss him off while somehow entertaining him at the same time.

But miracles tend to happen to those who least expect it. It was then a bolt of black suddenly jumped into a faraway bush. He jolted upright in an instant, arm transmuting into a blade. Having lived in these ruins without any human contact whatsoever had heightened all of his senses. His ears twitched as he listened intently, eyes focused on the bush, anticipating movement. Then, the last thing he was expecting leapt out of the foliage.

It was a cat.

He scowled as his blade transmuted back to flesh. Damn cat. Wes would certainly be laughing his ass off inside his grave if he knew his grumpy baby brother had been startled by a cat. The creature yawned cutely, not a bit bothered by the glare directed at it.

But then he started to realize. He had lived in this place for years and could recite the name of every animal in there and even tell how many each species was. There were definitely no black cats. This cat had somehow managed to find its way to the ruins in the middle of a desert by itself.

Was it really by itself?

Pursing his lips, he started to finecomb the dead city. He had an uncomfortable gut feeling he was no longer alone.

His heightened senses pulled him west. So they were from Amestris, huh? Not a very happy thought, because Amestris was what had caused him and his brother to be left alone in this god forsaken place to begin with. But it could be a happy thought, he supposed, because if the intruder happened to be a military soldier, things would get interesting.

There they were. In the west hall fountain. His right hand transmuting before he even thought about it; in the next second, it was already on the intruder’s throat.

“Who are you?”

His captive didn’t give an answer. Before he could interrogate them further, the corner of his eye caught the former bolt of black fur, momentarily distracting him. The person his blade had been confining suddenly ducked, escaped his grasp, and dashed forward with impressive fluidity.

When the intruder turned back to him, however, there were things far more intriguing about them.

One, she was a girl. A very tiny girl with very precise combat movement.

Two, she appeared just as shocked as he was.

Three, she had a very familiar face. A face that brought back all the years of suffering, warm motherly hugs, starry night skies, pain in his chest, and Wes’s affectionate voice. But there were too many unfamiliar things about her for her to be the one he thought she was. Her eyes were green, not inky black, for one. And the person he was thinking about definitely wouldn’t have gotten younger in the past twelve years.

But still, he had seen many weird things, so there was no harm in making sure, “Mrs… Kamiko?”

The girl’s eyes widened in shock at the name. “You know my Mama?”

What?

“You’re not her?”

“I just said she was my Mama.”

He let out a little ‘oh’ as his blade transmuted back, eyes shifting away from the girl’s face.

The girl. Whom he mostly knew who she was.

His mind flew to Mrs. Kamiko’s words as she took him and Wes to the top of the lab’s tower.

_“I think you two would be great friends with my Maka.”_

She was _the little faceless girl._ Weird to finally put a face on a name he'd only heard of for so long.

“Who are you? And how did you know my Mama?”

The girl’s—Maka’s—voice jolted him out of his reminiscence. His brain suddenly blanked at what to do or say. His social skills seemed to have crumbled fantastically over the years. Well, not that he was a very social person to begin with.

Avoiding the other question, he replied with the nickname Wes gave him instead. “…Soul.”

“Sorry?”

Of course. The word didn’t exactly sound like a name. Stupid Wes.

“Uh, my name. It’s… Soul.”

It felt weird even on his own tongue. Yeah, he supposed five years without hearing their own name would do that to people.

“Okay, Soul,” the girl—Maka—nodded, saying his name firmly. He kinda liked how it sounded in her voice. “Who are you and how did you know my Mama?”

Again, he dodged the question, “So, you’re… Maka?”

Oh, saying her name felt nicer than hearing his own, actually.

“Wha—how do you know my name? _Who are you?!_ ” Maka replied with a guarded shout. Woah, she was as fierce as her mother, if not more.

His past life was flashing before his eyes, bringing back in surprising accuracy, Mrs. Kamiko’s strict instructions to forget everything, to keep what happened a secret and _just hide_. So, because he was a very wise person with splendid decision-making skills, he chose to tell the truth.

“I was one of your mother’s test subjects.”

Predictably, Maka’s eyes went wider as she shrieked, “What?!”

Inside his brain, the Little Demon retorted, ‘ _Yeah, Soul, What?’_

* * *

“What’s your game, Kid?”

Liz Thompson stared at her superior with a serious look. The Colonel was calmly sipping his beloved tea instead of completing his assignments.

“What are you talking about?”

“Cut the bullshit! I didn’t say anything back on Gallows Hill, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know!” Liz fumed, slamming her hands on Kid’s desk. Luckily there was no one in the office to witness their argument. “You conveniently helped Maka with deciphering her codes despite _never_ as much as peeking at other alchemists’ research before, and then you sent her to that dreadful place without any back-up! You didn’t fight against her decision hard enough! Hell, you don’t even look worried about her right now!”

Liz couldn’t help her outrage. Maka was one of her very few female friends and she always had this huge protective instinct towards her, much like what she felt for Patty. She was an older sister for a reason, dammit. How Kid could calmly drink his stupid hot leaf juice while Maka was probably suffering from dehydration in the middle of satan’s armpit was beyond her.

“Relax, Elizabeth.”

Liz hissed, “Don’t ‘Elizabeth’ me! Answer my question!”

Kid set down his cup and said, “It was necessary.”

“For what?!”

He lifted his face and looked right into her eyes. Liz hated herself for noticing how his golden irises seemed to glow beautifully in the evening light. She knew Kid would never use his stupid pretty eyes to charm her on purpose, and it was entirely her own fault for finding them so mesmerizing, but that didn’t mean she could let herself to be captivated! She was supposed to be angry, goddammit! This was a serious problem!

“For my plan,” he answered in a low voice, interrupting her inner turmoil. “I found out that my enemy might have some connections to Mrs. Kamiko’s experiments. Finding her other documents might lead me closer to them. And there’s no alchemist who could do this more efficiently than Maka. But you have to believe me, Elizabeth, that I would never want to cause Maka any harm. You know I see her as my own sister. You also know she would go through the desert without problem, she was no idiot. And I was being honest when I said we’ll follow her there if she doesn’t report to us immediately.”

Liz’s anger drained slightly at his answer, but she still refused to drop her sour look. She sulkily looked away and chose to correct one of his statements, “ _Our_ enemy,” she grumbled, “They’re mine and Patty’s enemy too.”

Kid smiled at her words, “Thank you.”

“But I still blame you for sending Maka alone! Your reasons don’t make it entirely okay!” she shouted but felt heat rising to her cheeks, entirely blaming Kid’s dumb smile. “Besides, what would Mr. Stein say? I certainly won’t help you if he finds out.”

The thought of his and Maka’s alchemy teacher seemed to crumble Kid’s walls, indicated by how the teacup he was holding rattled dangerously on its plate and how beads of cold sweat started forming on his pretty face.

“He… He would kill me…” Kid whimpered pitifully to his desk, traces of the pretty boy from previously having vanished, and been replaced by a very distraught-looking ball of anxiety. “He probably will dissect me and make me more asymmetrical than ever! And I can’t even blame him for that! I’m trash… A disgrace! An abomination!”

Liz sighed, at least the atmosphere was back to normal.

* * *

A couple hundred miles from the Eastern Headquarters where Colonel Morton wailed to his Lieutenant, Maka Albarn was shrieking at a certain Ishvalan boy.

“What?!”

When her brain had fully processed his previous words, Maka started trembling with anger. How dare he! The cruel idea of Mama using humans as test subjects! Unbelievable! Who did he think he was? What right had he to accuse her Mama of that horrible act?

Maka stewed in her ill thoughts of the Ishvalan boy, conveniently ignoring the fact that he had obviously recognized Mama’s likeness on her face and knew her by name. Kamiko Albarn was an honorable woman with a respectable career and a noble personality, and Maka would die to defend that statement. Her left hand was back at fighting stance, while her right one was subtly reaching for one of her specially carved pins to prepare a long distance transmutation.

She would have been more intimidating if her stomach hadn’t chosen that particular time to rumble, and the fact that it echoed very loudly in that empty place made it even worse.

Blair meowed.

Maka fought the urge to glare at her cat. The boy—Soul—coughed to disguise his snort. She wasn’t as successful at stopping her hostility, nor it being replaced by the need to find a hole and bury herself, however. But she was Maka Albarn, and Maka Albarn wouldn’t let go of her anger just because of an empty stomach or an alarming amount of embarrassment, so she was back to her sneering. She pretended the previous incident had never happened. She dearly hoped the Ishvalan boy would do the same.

Unbeknownst to her, her antics had helped the boy to clear his own thoughts. He hid a grin and offered awkwardly, “Uh… I can offer you a meal?” The end of his sentence climbed up a bit, shaping it into a question.

Maka cursed her back-stabbing stomach and mulled her options. Her traitorous belly complained again. She sighed inwardly; she knew anger always got the best of her when she was hungry. Fortunately, the rational part of her brain made an appearance by proposing the thought that she might get the boy’s full story _and then_ she could judge him in peace afterwards. She could think better when she was full anyway, and if the boy tried to do anything funny, her transmutation gloves were ready to strike anytime. So, after grumbling at her own stomach, she nodded begrudgingly, and the boy—Soul—answered with a tentative gesture to follow him.

She hoped her perception was right when she felt no ill-intent from the strange Ishvalan boy.

* * *

Soul found out that the girl—Maka—was easily distracted once she felt relatively safe. He saw her curiously staring at everything, from the rubble of a broken altar, an ancient dragon statue, to a piece of a rusty iron bar on a window. She even forgot to keep being hostile at him a few times. She was as eager to learn everything as her mother, it seemed, even though Mrs. Kamiko was far better at hiding her curiosity. He would hear her gasp and she would blush furiously for letting herself be so captivated by a carving or relief; then she would continue her death-glaring. But her excitement visibly got bigger as they strolled through the heart of the oasis.

He led Maka to his home. Well, sort of home. The place was just the most decent part of a broken building at the east side of the oasis. It might have looked a little homier when Wes had been alive, but Soul didn’t really pay that much attention to decoration and couldn’t bring himself to care as long as he had a nice roofed spot to sleep and put his pitifully few belongings in.

Maka’s horse wandered over the grassland beside the building, munching contentedly. The cat, however, was purring on Maka’s chest, refusing to let go of her human’s warmth.

“Make yourself at home. I’ll just—go get the food.” He gestured at a horizontally fallen square pillar in front of his room; the one he often used as some sort of bench.

Maka was so enchanted by the remnants of the building they were in, which Wes had said was supposed to be an ancient temple of a sort, but as always, she shot him that dark look when she remembered her own supposed anger, even though Soul wasn’t so sure about the cause of it.

Soul started the fire, feeling Maka’s eyes glaring holes on his back. He quickly heated up some smoked rabbit meat. Living in the desert meant the meat he hunted would go bad very quickly if not preserved properly. He begrudgingly thanked no one that among those hideous experiments he and his brother had endured, _they_ actually gave them a harsh training on survival.

Their meal was silent and awkward, neither of them knew how to hold a proper conversation without including the previous topic, and ended up ruining their appetite.

But finally, after a long while of glaring at her clean plate, Maka spoke, “What did you mean when you said you were Mama’s test subject?”

Soul’s fifth piece of meat froze midway to his mouth. He gulped, setting down his plate, and glanced away uncomfortably. Why did he say that when he knew it’d come to this? Mrs. Kamiko had strictly forbid them to tell anyone, for god’s sake!

_‘Well, she’s her daughter so who cares?’_

_‘Yes, thank you,’_ Soul inwardly replied. How he managed to lace his inner voice with a humongous amount of sarcasm was a feat in itself.

He knew his Demon made him tend to break rules and ignore orders, but he had gotten much better at controlling it; or so he thought. His previous slip still caught him by surprise. He was confused by the overwhelming urge to tell this girl everything despite being aware of his complicated relationship with speaking. Not to mention this particular topic was definitely not his favorite thing to discuss.

He knew he shouldn’t. He had already ruined everything by blabbing his secret the moment she asked him.

_‘Yeah, yeah, no use regretting it now.’_

Soul mentally growled at the Demon, but he was right.

His promise to Mrs. Kamiko had been broken.

And he couldn’t find in him any guilt.

_‘Just say it.’_

Maybe it was just the tiny bit of jealousy he still felt at _the little faceless girl_ , the irrational need to prove that he also had some kind of bond with Mrs. Kamiko.

Or maybe it was just her. He supposed his lonely heart was slowly aching for any human interaction. Also, looking at Maka was eerily similar to looking at Mrs. Kamiko. Their painfully similar personalities made talking to her feel like talking to her mother.

He never realized that he missed _her_ as much as he missed Wes.

“Soul?”

Well, the water had been spilled, might as well get drenched.

He cleared his throat, absently rubbing the back of his neck, “Well… uh, where do I begin?”

“How about you tell me exactly what kind of research you were supposed to be a ‘subject’ of?” she said viciously, emphasizing that one word. Clearly she still didn’t believe him.

“That is… complicated.” His adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped again. “Honestly I don’t really understand half of it.”

Maka huffed, “Then tell me the half which you understand.”

Soul fought a scowl. Demanding and impatient, just like her mother.

“Your ‘Mama’ was the head alchemist in the military’s Black Blood project. Basically, the Human Weapon experiment,” he dropped the bomb flatly.

The girl choked, “The human what?!”

“Human Weapon. Y’know, injecting weird things into a human body and modifying it to be able to shift into a weapon?” he replied to her disbelieving look. Soul sighed. Maybe it was easier to show rather than tell. He wasn’t as good as Wes when it came to words.

He raised his right arm in front of her face. Green lights sparked and the sound of transmutation echoed as his flesh turned into steel.

* * *

Maka gasped at a very metallic arm in front of her.

She had seen it once, yes, but it didn’t prevent the shock from freezing her. Other things like inhumane research and illegal activities scattered from her mind and were immediately replaced by the sheer impossibility of Soul’s transmutation.

“What did you just do?!”

“Demonstrating the Human Weapon thing.”

Yeah, asshole, she knew that, but that wasn’t her question.

“That was just impossible!!”

He didn’t make any motion nor drew any circle. She considered the possibility that he might be using a Philosopher’s Stone, but the sparks he made were light green, almost like hers, not red like what the Stone would produce. And there were so many things about it that would downright hurl alchemy’s most important law of equivalent exchange out of the window.

“You didn’t do any movements or draw any circles!” she continued her protests, “And it’s all wrong! The masses and volumes are clearly not adding up and even if the human body contains some amount of iron it would never be enough to make a blade! You can’t just go poof and conjure things from thin air like magic! Not to mention—”

Soul’s sudden laugh cut her off mid-rant, blade-arm transmuted back to flesh. She stared at him dumbly, unwillingly noticing how his entire façade seemed to soften considerably with delight. Again, his mood shift made a shocking change in him.

Angry at herself for noticing dumb things about the boy she was supposed to be interrogating, she raised her voice in defense, “What’s so funny?!”

He cackled a few times more before he managed to reply. “Sorry.” He ran his fingers through his hair, making it even messier. “But no, it’s not magic. Human brains just can’t understand it yet.”

Maka’s heart flipped backwards.

“Wh-where did you hear that phrase?”

That effectively shut him up and his previous guardedness was back.

He was a very weird guy. Maka didn’t understand. Why did he keep steering the conversation into these things if it made him uncomfortable? And why did he look more anxious every time she asked if he had already implied he would answer her questions? Did he want to tell or keep it to himself? She scowled, hoping that he would make up his mind already. If not, then her transmutation circles were pleased to say they were ready to take the violent route.

But Soul finally decided to open up, apparently. Good for him. He let out a heavy breath as if readying himself. “Mrs. Kamiko often said that.”

Maka, in turn, held her breath as Soul continued, “I met her when I was—seven? Eight? Well, around that time. We had already been held in that place for several years, trained to be soldiers.”

“We?”

“My brother and I. And… countless other children. Ishvalan, mostly.”

“Ah,” Maka whispered darkly.

“We served as the lab’s experiment subjects when we were not in training. Sometimes they—they just took our blood or something. But sometimes it was—” Soul paused, hands balling into fists, “It was a death call. Many kids got called and we’d never see them again.”

Maka gulped. She was a State Alchemist. A ‘Dog of the Military’. Corruption inside the military wasn’t a strange concept to her. She knew the Ishval Civil War was a huge sinning ground, the cursed land of war crimes. But she had never heard of it being a mine of illegal experiments, where they took children and treated them like lab animals.

She shuddered. Honestly the chance of it being real was pretty high.

“Mrs. Kamiko was the new head of the project at the time. She led the other alchemists in cutting the children open and turning them into walking weapons. None of them survived besides me and my brother, of course. Mrs. Kamiko told us herself that Human Transmutation was just impossible. Well, it’s possible, theoretically, but the _cost_ is always just too big. I still don’t know what— _or who_ —she sacrificed to make us.”

She held her own hands to keep her actions in control. Even though Soul had said offensive and irrational things about Mama, she had to remind herself that she was hearing his side of the story. She had to hear everything before judging. But there was just too much to stomach.

“But when the experiment finally succeeded, she freed me and my brother, hid us when the military started searching for us, and finally said that we should go and hide out here to prevent other alchemists or the military from finding us.”

“Why… did she do that?”

“You tell me,” Soul leaned back on a cracked wall behind him, staring up at the stars through where the building’s roof must have been forever ago. “She was a walking contradiction.”

Maka pursed her lips, glaring at Soul’s totally fleshy right arm. The things he said were strange, like an incomplete backstory with lots of plot holes. An alchemist wouldn’t just free the result of their experiments, whether it was successful or not. More unlikely if it was a project assigned by the military. But it was too realistic to be a lie either. The illegal activities, even with how horrifying they sounded, were possible. Not to mention Soul had actually recognized her likeness to Mama and knew one of her infamous mottos (or, alternatively, had just said random things that coincidentally were an exact copy of what Mama used to say), indicating that he had met Mama in person.

No.

The irrational part of her brain, the one that loved Mama unconditionally and fiercely, started to deny everything.

Soul had never said that Mama was the one who personally did the human experiments, right? In fact, even if what he said about the experiments were true, there was a possibility he had fabricated the whole Mama-was-the-leader thing. He might just recognize Mama’s face from a newspaper or something because of how famous she was. Him saying Mama’s words was just a complete coincidence. Because Mama would never, ever, do something that immoral. No. Never.

“I don’t believe you,” she finally said, voice low and trembling. “Mama would never do anything like that.”

Soul smiled. With just the light from the cackling fire in front of them, his smile looked kind of sad. “She was the one who personally transmuted me, Maka.”

In an instant, her hand was gripping the front of his shirt, yanking him forward, “You shut your mouth! My Mama would never do anything like that! Her alchemy meant to help people! To heal! Not to destroy! Or—or to make weapons! I will prove you wrong even if I have to dig all of her labs up myself!!”

Yes, she would prove it. She would make sure there was not even a single scribble of filthy human transmutation in Mama’s documents.

She refused to believe her tears were flowing, scared to acknowledge the hideous foreboding sense that she might find evidence of it, buried in Mama’s lab somewhere.

Soul, to her surprise, did not counter. He was still wearing that same smile, quietly nodded and slowly released her grip.

“I know you will.”

Taken aback by his calmness, she stood up and yanked her hand away from him, “Thanks for the meal, but I have to go.”

She walked away in anger and confusion, missing the way Soul’s eyes stared at her back with unreadable emotion.

* * *

Soul peeked from behind his lashes.

Maka’s cat was napping on his belly again.

“Ugh, go back to your owner, cat!” he grumbled to the creature, but she just yawned and let out a purr.

Maka had spent the last three days inspecting the ruins, searching for any alchemical knowledge. He supposed there was plenty of it in the city, considering its reputation as the birthplace of alchemy. He wasn’t sure, though. Wes was the one with the gift of alchemy, not him.

It was strangely amusing to see Maka run all over the ruins, documenting reliefs or alchemy circles. He would find himself searching for her and watching her work for hours, sitting on nearby rubble with her black cat on his side.

Hard for him to imagine _the little faceless girl_ as Maka Albarn, even though he knew they were one and the same. Now that he had really met her, Mrs. Kamiko’s words were starting to feel real.

_“She’s impossible to not adore, you will see when you meet her!”_

Well, he was definitely _not_ on the ‘adore’ level, nor did he feel he would ever come to that point, but he was indeed drawn to her.

All of his old jealousy felt rather silly now.

Little by little, he got used to her presence, being more like his usual cool self instead of the awkward boy he had been that first night. Despite her hostility, he wanted to talk to her again. But Soul was never the best when it came to chit chat, so he ended up throwing sarcastic comments at her and mildly teasing her occasionally. Maka completely ignored him, of course (except for when her face reddened or when she gripped her notes a little too hard, maybe), but he didn’t mind. She was amazing when concentrating fully on her job.

Just like Mrs. Kamiko.

But this evening he was napping beside Wes’s grave again, silently talking about the last couple days’ events to his brother; about Maka. He actually enjoyed her presence, however sour her expression was. Listening at her grumbling or silently reacting to his words was interesting. A very good change in his boring life.

He stared at Wes’s gravestone, guiltily thinking of the idea he’d had the day before.

“Wes, will you forgive me if I leave you?”

* * *

Maka stood, packing up her things, and looked around.

No Blair.

She buried her face in her palm frustratedly before tapping her perception open. In a second, she found her pet’s soul in the heart of the oasis, next to a familiar double-soul.

Sighing, she picked up her bag and started walking towards the direction of her cat’s soul. “Really, Blair? Again?”

That smart cat was always aggressive to strangers, but she had been unusually clingy to the Ishvalan boy. It seemed like she had taken quite a liking to him, always next to him when Maka looked over her shoulder to glare at the boy.

Maka knew that boy followed her everywhere, watching her grumbling over Xerxesian alchemy circles with that strange look on his face, occasionally spitting out sarcastic comments. She found out that the boy could be very annoying when he lost that awkwardness he had displayed the first night she had arrived. He was always absent when the sky turned red, however, taking Blair with him to god knows where.

But more than anything, she was shocked with herself for not finding the strength to truly hate the guy despite her vast willingness to do so. Part of the reason was because she still couldn’t find any malice in his _main_ soul. The other part was that she felt an odd enjoyment in his presence. Even with that bored look on his face or those rude teases he threw, she could feel that he was genuinely interested in what she was doing.

She ignored him, though, because she had far more important things to think about than a sarcastic jerk who spouted ridiculous nonsense about her Mama. She had to check every single thing to make sure she didn’t miss anything Mama might have left for her. There was no doubt that Mama had hidden something big in the ancient rubble. Mama wouldn’t have double-code the map if it hadn’t been important.

But she had stayed in Death City for almost three days with no notable findings, and Kid would storm the desert along with his twin human guns if she stayed any longer. Well, not that she didn’t have the time. She could always go back.

Blair was snuggling on Soul’s stomach, happily purring. The boy himself was napping on the grass beside a marble stone. So this was where he went in the evenings, lazing around under a tree.

Now when she thought about it, he was always alone, despite saying that he fled here with his brother. Did he lie or—

Oh.

The marble was actually a gravestone.

“Hey…” Soul greeted, opening his eye and lazily sat up. Blair howled a protest for the disturbance. “Finished for the day?”

As usual, Maka ignored him and proceeded to scoop Blair to her chest, earning a sigh from the boy. When the corner of her eyes caught the name on the stone, she paused. Wezen. The name wasn’t Ishvalan, but neither was ‘Soul’.

However hard she tried to deny and ignore him, the ever curious part of her wanted to know more of his story.

How uncharacteristic of her.

“Was he your brother?”

“Huh?” Soul blinked, seemingly surprised because she actually talked to him after ignoring him for days. “Oh, uh, yeah. Wes.”

Maybe it was because she had never bothered to properly see him before, but when she actually looked at the young Ishvalan man in broad daylight with his fingers slicking his bangs back, she could see his eyes were such an unusual shade of red, even for Ishvalan standard. The second he said his brother’s name, those deep red eyes were clouded by a surprising amount of feeling.

Of loneliness.

Maka frowned to herself. Mama had always advised to be a decent human being first before being an alchemist. Even if she held a personal grudge towards this person, she shouldn’t ignore that he was human. A person with feelings. She should know better about the pain of losing someone important. She had experienced it herself.

“I’m sorry…”

Again, he blinked disbelievingly at her, but then he broke into a weary grin, brushing off her condolences. “S’fine.”

Maka suppressed her embarrassment by scowling and hugged Blair closer. “Well, I guess it’s goodbye, then.”

Soul’s smile faltered slightly at her words, but not that she cared enough to notice it. “You wanna go?”

“Well, yeah, I can’t stay here forever, can I? I already said I would prove you wrong, that my Mama was innocent and never took part in some crazy human experiment! I will show you that all research Mama did was never meant for harm!” Maka declared, puffing out a pompous huff.

She turned to take her horse, grumbling about a plan to locate Mama’s next lab immediately when she got back to Gallows Hill. Her steps didn’t even reach two digits yet when she heard his voice.

“Wait, Maka…”

She turned to see him casting his eyes down, left hand grazing the back of his neck. Somehow that awkward boy was back, replacing the sarcastic guy she had come to know these past three days. What an odd guy.

“What?”

“Let me… let me go with you.”

Maka’s eyes widened. Was he actually serious?

“What? Go with me?”

He nodded, “You want to collect Mrs. Kamiko’s research, right? Well, I happen to know the location of a few of her labs—so maybe…”

She would never understand this guy. She had just declared she would go on a journey to prove _him_ wrong, and he wanted to help her do that?

His brother’s gravestone caught her attention again. Oh. She had almost forgotten that Soul had lived in this place for years, alone, without any proper human contact. Suddenly she understood what emotion she had sensed in his soul when he had been watching her these past three days. It was contentment, probably. The joy to have a company.

She looked down at her notes where she had documented all of her inconsequential findings.

Mama’s reason for leading her to Death City… had it been to meet him? To get him out of his solitude?

Blair meowed.

She stared at the Ishvalan boy who stood rather awkwardly in front of her. She was not sure why, but she believed that maybe his sarcastic façade was just how he dealt with people, hiding his inner thoughts behind taunts and teasing. When he got all nervous like this, he was actually being genuine.

Did she have the heart to leave this boy?

“Okay,” Maka finally answered, hoping that her choice wouldn’t cause any problems for her in the future.

Her future self might punch her for how wrong she was.


	2. Little Towns Have Their Own Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “She said that we should be together.”

_“Go, Wezen, take care of your brother.”_

These were the last words she spoke to Wes.

_“Be good, and always listen to your big brother.”_

These were the last words she spoke to him.

_“I’m sorry, Soul, I’m sorry… I’m sorry for leaving you alone, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”_

They were the last words Wes spoke to him.

_“Shut up, Wes…”_

And they were the last words he spoke to Wes, with a silent tear on his cheek.

* * *

Maka hopped down from her horse in silence, ignoring Soul’s extended hand.

Of course she was still angry at him, but the actual reason of her scowl was because she was extremely embarrassed.

She had already regretted her decision to bring the Ishvalan boy with her five minutes after voicing it, all because the unfortunate situation of only having one horse, forcing them to ride it together. Maka thought Black☆Star hooking her up with Second Lieutenant Ford was the most embarrassing thing in her life, but she certainly had been wrong. Horseback riding with Soul was worse. She didn’t even realize the sun’s unforgiving heat was cooking them into medium rare steaks.

Particularly because she couldn’t help being too self-conscious. No, not because she wanted him to think she was a fragile princess being rescued by a knight in a shining armor while riding his horse together to the sunset, but because she had to make sure she looked intimidating and fierce; to remind him she could knock all of his stupid sharky teeth out of his jaw if he ever tried to do something. But unfortunately that was not an easy feat when she was a head shorter than him and was sitting in front of the boy like they were in a cheesy romance play.

Soul had been kind enough to not say anything despite his vast talent at snide remarks. But his silence only made the riding extremely awkward. Nobody could stop Blair from being chatty, however, and Maka had to stop thinking that her pet was teasing her. Cats don’t tease.

Their first night on the Amestris border was pretty okay, she supposed, but for the love of the periodic table, she couldn’t get a wink. All because she knew that Soul didn’t sleep at all either. He just sat there in front of the fire, staring in the direction of Death City. Her mood got worse because the light feeling she got when she stepped into the desert was gone, replaced by this ominous feeling and heavy burden she knew too well. Even the dragon path felt farther. She blamed all of it on her new companion.

“Where exactly are these ‘labs’ you’ve spoken of?”

Soul started a little at her voice, as if not realizing that she had been awake the whole time. He reached for a tree branch around his legs and used it to prod the fire.

“Gritch, West City, Dublith, New Yolden, Rashville, those I certainly knew of. I’ve been there. Of course there are several in Ishval. Also, she implied once that she had one in Briggs.”

“Hmm, I have been to the West City one but—wait, _Briggs_?!” Maka bolted upright, unintentionally knocking Blair off of her stomach. The cat yowled loudly, but Maka couldn’t bring herself to care. “It’s the most heavily fortressed city in this country!”

“So I’ve heard.”

Maka brought her hand to her chin, thinking at miles per second. This was another anomaly of Mama’s habits. Mama always built her labs far away from people, and more importantly, from the military. At least when she wasn’t contributing to military-issued research, when she had no choice in deciding her work field.

Like in Ishval. But no, she wouldn’t think about it. Not yet.

The thing was, Briggs was a very dangerous place, being the only city separating Amestris and Drachma, where heavy conflicts and rocket exchanges happened regularly. It was heavily guarded, because half of the town was owned by the military, resembling more of a fortress than a city. The only place that had a seemingly equal amount of defenses was the Central Headquarters where the Führer lived.

What could Mama possibly hide right under the military’s nose?

But anyway, she couldn’t risk going to a place that dangerous with a guy she barely knew. She just had to test him first, making sure he was not a hindrance.

“Rashville first.”

“Huh?”

“That’s the nearest one from here. I won’t forgive you if you have lied to me or purposely drag me down. I also won’t help you if you get yourself in trouble, so be prepared,” Maka spoke with a tone of finality, dragging her coat to cover her head.

* * *

“Soul.”

He was extinguishing the coals from last night’s campfire when he turned to the voice. Maka was standing with arms crossed in front of her chest. She wore her usual pout, seemed as if considering something.

“What?”

“I said we’ll go to Rashville, but first, we need new clothes for you,” said Maka, eyeing him from head to toe. “I’ll be the center of attention the second I step into a city with you by my side.”

Maka’s cat meowed from her shoulder, as if supporting her owner’s point. He must have looked hideous for a cat to comment on his appearance.

Damn cat.

Okay, he didn’t look so bad to be considered hideous, but there certainly was something that spoke ‘neglected’ about him, so Soul didn’t object and just grunted.

Well, an effect of living in a dead city without any human contact, he supposed. His hair was untamable and desperately needed a cut, and since his brother and he fled to Death City when he was twelve, he didn’t have anything to fit him except for Wes’s old clothes. And honestly, Wes was at least ten centimeters shorter than him now that he’d had his growth spurt. So yeah, new clothes actually sounded good.

They arrived at the small town of Little Hook a day later. Soul tentatively stared everywhere, having forgotten what a lively town was supposed to look like. He was stunned by the amount of people, nervous to socialize. A snort came from Maka’s direction, but when he turned to look at her she was still as sour as usual, saying nonchalantly that the tiny village was nothing compared to the cities they would visit in the near future. Soul refrained from gulping. It would be okay; they were just people. Humans. Just think of them as grumpy monkeys or something.

He tried to not imagine Wes' reactions at his humanly-induced hysteria too much. Or to look forward to tell him at the end of the day.

Maka said they needed to find a bank first, because, of course, they needed money to get the things they wanted. The downside of a civilized place. The building they arrived to was small and built from ancient bricks. Soul stared around curiously while Maka made her way to the bank people (Soul didn’t know what to call them).

“Excuse me, I want to make a withdrawal from Maka Albarn’s State Alchemist account,” Maka said, sliding a paper and something silver to the bank woman.

“Are you the Alchemist herself, Miss?” the bank woman asked, inspecting the silver thing carefully.

The silver thing.

Oh.

_The Silver Pocket Watch._

“Yes,” Maka answered.

Soul didn’t realize his breathing was rapidly quickening at the sight of that thing.

Of course. Of course.

The people who did _those things_ to him and Wes were State Alchemists. Mrs. Kamiko _was_ a State Alchemist. It wasn’t strange for Maka to be a State Alchemist too.

She was a Dog of the Military.

How foolish of him to blindly follow this girl just because she was the daughter of Mrs. Kamiko. How foolish of him to crave human interaction, to crave company. How foolish. What if she took him with her because she just wanted to use him? To cut him open? To dissect the Human Weapon secret out of him?

Old fear and horror engulfed him painfully tight at a daunting speed. Beads of cold sweat ran down all over his body. He was numb. Completely numb. All he could hear was the loud _thump thump thump_ of his panicking heart and the faraway echo of a human transmutation circle being activated. He felt dizzy.

No.

No, no, no.

Years of numbing his heart against these fears only made the attack worse. The vivid recollections of his body strapped tight above an alchemy circle, of his chest being cut open, of that black liquid pouring into his body and burning his every cell were brutal.

Stupid. Fuck, he was stupid.

_‘That’s right, Soul! That’s right! How foolish of you to follow this girl! She’s like her mother, you say? You’re right! She’s just like her mother! She’s no different from the woman who made you like this! After all, she’s a State Alchemist, no?’_

This was a very bad time for his Little Demon to made an appearance.

_‘Just run! Go! Or better yet, slash! Kill! Murder them all!’_

Soul had to force every fiber of his being to stop his own arm from turning into a blade. His frantic breath must have been audibly loud because Maka spun to face him and was approaching him with a worried look on her face.

“Soul?” she tried to reach him, but Soul was still numbly frigid. “Soul? What’s wrong?”

When she did touch him, his senses came back in full force, feeling the heat from her hand spreading through his body like an uncontrollable forest fire.

Without thinking, he swatted her hand away roughly and dashed out of the building to wherever he thought was the safest place to hide.

* * *

Maka was very confused.

What was wrong with that guy? One time he was aggressive, then he was awkward, then annoyingly sarcastic, and now he ran off like a cat squirted with water? Heck, even Blair wouldn’t look that upset when squirted with water.

It would have been funny if not for the look on his face. He was certainly frightened enough to not be okay.

“Here’s your money, Miss Albarn.” The teller casually slid a brown envelope and her Silver Pocket Watch as if she hadn’t witnessed the previous occurrence.

Maka hastily put the money in her bag and was chaining her Pocket Watch back to her belt when she was suddenly slammed with understanding.

Oh. Her Silver Pocket Watch.

He was Ishvalan. The trauma of the Ishval Civil War was certainly enough to make any survivor tremble at the sight of the Watch; soldiers who destroyed their cities at the front lines were State Alchemists, after all. More importantly, if Soul _really_ had experienced all those gruesome experiments that turned him into a Human Weapon like he said, his reaction would most likely be a couple times worse. The people who did that to him were undoubtedly State Alchemists.

Like her Mama.

Maka’s heart flipped in discomfort.

A soul couldn’t lie, she had undoubtedly sensed that Soul really was scared. Seeing his terrified eyes and his rigid posture just from the mere sight of her Watch was unnerving. It was the first proof that all of his story wasn’t a lie.

She gulped uncomfortably.

No.

She had stubbornly convinced herself that Mama would never be a part of a research that amoral. She kept telling herself that it was just a sick lie he had fabricated to convince her to bring him along, to get closer to her and then steal all of Mama’s documents. Everybody wanted those, after all.

She knew, deep inside her heart, that doing this was cruel and that she was being unfair to Soul. But Soul was a stranger, and Mama was her life.

Shaking her head furiously, Maka pushed her unpleasant thoughts aside, hurrying outside while taking the leather cover off of her pocket notebook. She transmuted it into a small case to hide the Watch and put it in her jacket’s inner breast pocket to keep it out of sight. Blair was hot on her heels.

She could think of everything later. Finding him came first.

Unfortunately, because of her haste, Maka missed how the teller woman called the Central Headquarters’ State Alchemist division right after she closed the door.

“Yes, I want to report that Miss Maka Albarn just made a withdrawal from Grigori Alchemist’s Research Account at Morte Bank of Little Hook. Yes. Yes, Sir. No, she was with a young Ishvalan man. No. Yes, Sir.”

* * *

She found him inside the remnants of a church, sitting on a rusty bench with his head between his knees and trembling hands covering his ears.

But the thing that shocked her the most was his soul. Or _souls_.

Paracelsus had said in his book that living beings consisted of three main principles, the Tria Prima; _sulfur, mercury_ and _salt_. The ‘soul’ was represented by _sulfur,_ which was flammable.

His souls were scorching.

The dominant one of his souls, the _human_ part, the ‘Soul’ part, was trembling in chaos as if being burned alive. But the other soul, the artificial part, was dancing maniacally above the fire, as if his other half’s misery was fueling its joy.

It was disturbing.

For a while, she could not bring her foot to step forward. Tears were falling down her face without her knowing, silently reacting to the chaos inside him.

“Please no… no…”

His shaky muttering was what brought her consciousness back. Trembling, she staggered to him.

“Soul…?”

Her voice shocked him upright. He pulled away from her extended hand, swatting it violently. “GO AWAY! JUST DIE, YOU MILITARY DOG!! DIE!!”

She flinched. Not because of the sheer volume of his voice nor how furious he was, but because of how much fear was in his tone despite his cruel words.

Maka didn’t know what to do. As the minutes went on, Soul seemed not to be aware of where he was or even _who she was_ , because he covered his ears again and started begging her when he caught sight of her face.

“Don’t hurt me… Mrs. Kamiko… get me out of here… get us out of here…”

He continued to mumble the same thing over and over, with her standing there, completely frozen and speechless from witnessing his agonizing soul. This was the downside of sharpening her soul perception. She could feel what the soul was feeling.

How could she think that this boy wanted to take advantage of her? That he was up to no good? When all his soul screamed was that it just wanted to be saved?

Five minutes later, or maybe even five hours later, Soul had lost all of his energy, passing out silently, still crying in the same position.

Maka slumped beside this miserable practical stranger; this damaged boy. She didn’t know what she was doing, but her hands reached out to bring his head to her chest and wiping his drenched face, now completely aware that she was also crying the whole time.

“I won’t hurt you, idiot.”

* * *

He squinted grumpily, realizing that he was exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

Birds were chirping cheerfully from somewhere, and part of him dearly wished for them to shut up. The other part was wondering why he felt so at peace despite the previous turmoil he had experienced. He didn’t even hear his Demon.

It was then he became fully aware of his position and his surroundings. He was half sitting on a rusty church bench and half sleeping on someone’s shoulder.

“Hey, Mr. Sleepyhead…”

Oh. He recognized that voice. But why did it sound a bit higher—and younger—than it should?

“Mrs… Kamiko…?”

He lifted his head to find she was staring down at him. Mrs. Kamiko smiled a little sadly, her green eyes glinting in the morning sunlight.

Wait a minute. Mrs. Kamiko’s eyes were black.

His brain finally completed its buffering.

Yes. It was totally not Mrs. Kamiko.

Soul yelped and instinctively jumped back, slipping on his own foot and knocked himself on a nearby wall. He cursed while writhing pitifully, grabbing his head. A giggle echoed in the broken church when Soul found a hand extended to help him up.

“Are you okay?”

Maka Albarn leaned down in front of him. She was smiling, still waiting for him to take her hand. Soul tentatively did, feeling heat creeping up to his face.

“Yeah…”

Right after standing upright, the memories of last night slammed him like dozens of bricks. Especially the _fantastic_ part where he shouted at her to go die.

Fuck.

His previous thoughts about Maka seemed so laughable in the bright morning sunlight where she was smiling so comfortingly at him. Even after his madness, after hearing his cruel words, Maka was still here, making sure he was alright.

If she really wished to do something bad to him like those cursed State Alchemists, she would have had all the chances in the world when he had been sobbing pitifully with a wrecked mind. If she really thought he was a jerk like how she continuously did since he’d met her, she wouldn’t take the trouble to find him and would just continue her journey in peace. He’d already told her the locations of the labs, after all. She didn’t need him anymore. But no, she didn’t do that. She chose to search for him, to hear his cries and comfort him.

He deserved the painful waves of guilt that were currently choking his breath.

“Wait, Maka—”

“Hmm?” she hummed in a conversational tone, turning to look at him. He didn’t understand why she was still smiling so innocently. She should be lashing out at him right about now. Earlier evidence said that she had a short temper and the tendency to use violence when provoked.

“About…” he forbade his hands from fidgeting, hiding them inside his pockets. “About what I said last night, I’m sorry—I just… I’m—”

“It’s okay,” interrupted Maka, “You can tell me when you’re ready.”

He stared at her in disbelief. Was this the same girl that treated him like a pesky cat who spilled ink on her late Mama’s only photo?

She gestured at what was once the church’s entrance. “Let’s find breakfast.”

Yes, this was the same girl.

* * *

Soul was quiet.

Maka thought he was still not entirely out of it yet, stealing glances at him every other second to find him in a mild daze. He was also casting his eyes down, not curiously looking at everything like yesterday. He didn’t even bother to keep up his stupid slouching, just sitting there and eating without sound. With that rigid posture, Maka could almost picture him as an ex-soldier.

It couldn’t be helped, she supposed.

Seeing how uneasy he was, Maka started to rethink her opinion. Tsubaki’s gentle advice of seeing everything from a different perspective was ringing in her ears. She had ignored Soul’s perspective, closing her eyes and refused to think of him as a victim. Maybe Soul said all of that because he was also seeing the whole thing from _his_ point of view. Maybe there was something else, the bigger truth than what Soul had heard and experienced. Maybe Mama _did_ take part in that project, but with some noble reason no one knew of.

She exhaled heavily. It was possible.

But for now, she just wanted to forget everything and fall back to the time when she was hunting Mama’s research only to keep it from evil hands.

_It’s not the shape that matters, it’s the soul that’s important._

She just wanted to forget that Soul was a human weapon possibly created by her Mama.

She just wanted to see him as a person and know what kind of soul he had.

Maka distracted herself by looking for a shop to get Soul new clothes and a bookstore to purchase new travel notebooks (and maybe new theoretical books too, they never hurt). Maka had forgotten about this before, but she also needed a new trench coat now that she was back in Amestris. The previous one was thin and designed for desert travels, she absolutely needed a thicker one if she wanted to survive another night of Amestris’s chilly wind, especially now that the summer had started to transform into autumn. They would most likely have to sleep outdoors a lot anyway, if she didn’t want the military to know she was travelling with an escaped human weapon.

Also new boots. Yes. Heavy duty boots.

Blair did a good job of meowing at the direction of The Lantern, a quiet but interesting shop on a street corner. No other customers meant a little more calm for Soul. The shop had the Prima Materia symbol below its name, indicating that the owner was an alchemist (a regular alchemist, of course; there would’ve been the Amestrian Dragon in the center of the Prima Materia if they were a State Alchemist)[1]. It was one of those clothing shops where the customer chose a model and had the owner make it right after.

Maka had always admired those people who used alchemy for handiwork and arts, because arranging atoms to form a thing with high artistic value was hard. Like super fucking hard. Even more so when it involved detailing wearable things. Maka could make something simple like a shirt or a skirt, of course, but she would never forget Black☆Star’s laughter when she attempted to decorate her coat by involving alchemical embroidery.

Maka noted that the shop was a little too sumptuous for a tiny village on the border of the country. She recognized a faint smell of gunpowder too, but she shook her head and let it slide. Firearm ownership wasn’t a strange thing in Amestris, after all.

“Excuse me!”

“Over here, Miss!”

A tall woman with long black hair popped from behind the counter, greeting them. She approached them with a smile, tying up a leather apron at her back. Her glinting name tag spelled ‘Jacqueline’. Maka stopped herself from raising her eyebrows. People usually wore leather aprons when blacksmithing or working in automail shops, not for making clothes. What an odd choice.

“What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you could make some travelling clothes for him and a thick trench coat for me? And two pairs of combat boots?”

“Sure thing, Miss!” Miss Jacqueline reached for her measuring ribbon and started taking notes of her measurements while asking what exact kind of coat she wanted. Maka made sure to remind her that she wanted a Flamel insignia embroidered on the upper back; Mama and Professor Stein inked the insignia on their left chests in honor of their alchemy partnership, and she was both of their pupil.

Blair got excited when she saw little orange pumpkin bells in Miss Jacqueline’s accessory display. She meowed at Maka and constantly pawed one of the little bells, demanding her attention.

“No, Blair, we’re not here to buy you clothes.” Blair responded with an annoyed meow, making her owner sigh. “Okay, okay, I’ll get you a collar or something.”

The cat let out a happy purr.

When it came to Soul’s turn, he was certainly very uncomfortable being that close to other people. Maka understood the reason behind his behavior, yes, but it didn’t stop her from being puzzled. He never did that when it came to her. From the very first night when she was still hostile, he had never flinched away from her. Well, except for the night before, when he clearly wasn’t in his best state of mind. But thankfully, he genuinely lit up as he looked through Miss Jacqueline’s collection of fashion magazines to find a model he liked.

“Okay, Miss! I have all of the measurements and the models! Now you only have to wait a bit while I arrange the circles!”

Maka nodded at the shop owner. She just found a cozy waiting spot and was about to sit when her eyes caught Soul absently huffing at his messy bangs.

“We also need to do something with your hair, really,” Maka spoke, eyeing his unruly white hair. Its uneven cut suggested that he might have been cutting his hair with his own blade.

Soul was about to respond when Miss Jacqueline suddenly chimed in, “Then you can go to my girlfriend’s place next door while you wait for your clothes, Mister. Kim’s amazing with haircuts.” Miss Jacqueline smiled rather bashfully, pointing to her right.

“Um… Okay?” Soul glanced at Maka unsurely, couldn’t decide whether to go or not. Or maybe he was just hesitant at the prospect of talking to another human being. Clearly he was still not that good with socializing.

She refrained from rolling her eyes and pulled his hand to the next shop, where a pretty pink-haired girl was whistling cheerfully while manicuring her nails.

“Hello, Miss!”

The girl—Miss Kim—perked up at the chime of her shop’s bell. She abandoned her previous activity when hearing their request, eyeing Soul up and down with an amused look, as if he was an interesting challenge. Soul was confused when Miss Kim asked how he wanted his haircut and Maka didn’t trust her questionable tastes enough to give any advice (she didn’t think Soul would love a buzz cut). But Miss Kim waved off their looks of worry airily.

“Don’t worry, I know what’s just right for him. It’s gonna be perfect!”

After Maka assigned Blair to keep a nervous Soul company, she went out for some new travel notebooks and ink refills. She kept her book-browsing as short as possible, not wanting to leave the awkward Ishvalan boy for too long after his earlier attack. She was finished in under two hours—a rare feat—and got back right when Miss Kim announced she was done.

Miss Jacqueline really didn’t lie about her girlfriend’s talent. Miss Kim had completely transformed Soul from a pitiful mess of a homeless man into a cool pretty boy. (No, of course Maka wouldn’t tell him that she found him pretty.)

He had his stubble shaved and his hair cut shorter, but still long enough to partly cover his eyes. Miss Kim had kept his hair’s spikiness, but had arranged it into a cool kind of spiky mess instead of his former erratic mop style. She gave him a black headband too, for keeping his bangs from covering his eyes, she said, but Maka had a suspicion Miss Kim did that just for the sake of making him even prettier.

Accompanied by Miss Kim, they went back to Miss Jacqueline’s shop for their new clothes. The alchemist’s work was flawless. Maka was absolutely delighted with her new trench coat and (completely rad) combat boots. (Miss Jacqueline really had an awesome taste.) She also did something impressive in making Soul’s outfit. The boy had stated that he disliked long coats, so he settled on dark low-rise jeans with a plain red shirt under a thick black leather jacket. Simple and durable, but looked nice on him.

“It suits you.”

Soul blinked twice in bemusement, but then he gave her a toothy grin. “Thanks.”

After choosing a pair of sunglasses to hide Soul’s red eyes, they said goodbye to the couple and started discussing the plan on getting to Rashville.

Blair led their way with her tail swaying pompously, her new pumpkin bell collar chiming merrily on her neck.

* * *

Maka had changed and he didn’t know what to do about it.

If there was something good coming from his previous embarrassing episode, it was that Maka had been acting considerably warmer towards him.

They were on their way to Rashville when Soul involuntarily squeaked his nervousness at the prospect of seeing more humans all at once. To his eternal surprise, Maka just soothingly assured him that she would be there for him as emotional support. That made him look away in embarrassment, completely missing the way Maka shot him an amused smile.

Not to mention her behavior towards him in Little Hook.

She was patient. Well, more patient than usual, when waiting for him to choose his new clothes (he guiltily admitted he was quite enjoying the choosing for models part, those things in Jacqueline’s collection were pretty cool).

She also didn’t mention anything about his previous attack, almost as if she was sensing that he was still too uncomfortable to speak about it. The girl was no longer demanding and bossy, and she was starting to look at him in the eye when she spoke to him, eagerly explaining the advances in technology he’d missed during his years in the desert.

It was nice, but he really didn’t know how to respond to it. There was no Wes he could ask for advice either.

“Soul, what do you want?”

“Huh?”

Maka was standing in front of a sandwich stand, pointing at the menu.

“Anything,” he said after thinking that he had no idea what those complicated things on the menu were; he knew about sandwiches only because Mrs. Kamiko made them once or twice for him and his brother. Well, not that he would protest anything Maka decided on, he would inhale anything classified as food.

“Okay then, two turkey and bacon sandwiches with fries on the side, also two orange juices,” she spoke to the seller. Blair meowed something at her owner and Maka rolled her eyes. “And one with raw tuna, please.”

Soon they were holding their sandwiches and fried potatoes, and Soul thought he reached some kind of enlightenment at his first bite. If such delicacies exist, then god must too.

Blair had already devoured all of her tuna sandwich and was eyeing her owner’s, when Maka suddenly shouted and stopped dead in her tracks.

“Oh! I forgot to call them!” Her eyes were round and she looked as if she wanted to punch herself.

“Who?”

“Kid!” she shouted, running to the nearest phone box after shoving her food into his hands.

Soul quirked his eyebrow. Kid? Did Maka already have a kid? She looked too young to be a mother, but what did he know about marriageable age and motherhood anyway? He grew up in a lab before burying himself in the middle of a desert.

He waited uncomfortably for her on the nearest bench while she made the call. The thought of Maka already having a family who needed her was bugging him. If she really had a kid waiting for her, then shouldn’t she be home, taking care of them and loving them? He knew firsthand how important motherly love was for a child.

Maybe—maybe Maka was not used to travelling like this. Maybe her original plan was to go straight home after visiting Death City. Maybe it was only because of his words that she decided to take this journey, leaving her family at home just to prove her mother was innocent.

Just for fighting a losing battle.

He felt more and more guilty by the second at the thought of tearing the girl from her family. What had he done? Not only did he leave the only family he had left in the forlorn silence of Death City, but he'd also torn other people's? He might puke the sandwich back up. Maka’s expression was still cheerful when she was approaching him, however, plopping down by his side and taking back her food, starting to nibble on a potato.

“Shouldn’t you go home?” Soul heard himself speak.

Maka didn’t even pause her munching, which puzzled him further. “Why?”

“Yeah, uh, you have a kid, right? So shouldn’t you be—I don’t know—taking care of them or—” Soul’s stutter was cut off by Maka’s bursting laugh. She had to hold onto the lamp post next to her to keep herself steady, cackling uncontrollably. Blair happily caught a few potatoes that were falling from the force of her laugh. Soul instinctively went defensive, “What?!”

“You—oh, my goodness—you thought—ahahah—you thought Kid was my child?!”

“Wha—” pink started dusting Soul’s cheeks. Was he mistaken?

“He’s my superior, you idiot!” Maka continued, still giggling and holding her stomach, “Colonel Kristopher Morton. ‘Kid’ is just a nickname we gave him.”

When his brain finished processing her words, the pink on his cheeks rapidly changed into crimson and bled all over his face, even his ears and the back of his neck. There was nothing he wanted more than to find a cliff and throw himself off of it, then set his corpse on fire, and finally bury what was left of it in the middle of the desert.

“Awww, no need to feel embarrassed, Soul!” Maka cooed, laughing at his spectacularly miserable attempt to hide his ferocious blush.

“Shut up!”

But Maka was kind enough to finally stop her giggles and managed to explain in a conversational tone, “Well, it’s not your fault. His first name is the same as his father’s, so calling him ‘Kristopher’ or even just ‘Kris’ feels weird. Then our friend Patty Thompson had the idea to combine his middle names; Kristopher Ignatius Damian, hence ‘Kid’.”

Soul grunted.

“Hey, you’re not one to talk. Yours is not that normal either!”

Soul opened his mouth to defend himself, but closed it again. Truthfully, even his real name was also far from Ishvalan’s normalcy. But he liked it, dammit, and it was given to him by one of the most important people in his life.

His sulky thoughts halted altogether as he realized what was implied in Maka’s previous explanation. “Wait, Kristopher Morton?! As in _the Führer_?!”

Maka smiled sadly, “Former Führer. But yes, he was Kid’s father.”

Soul gulped, he might have been raised in a lab and had spent his teenage years in a dead city, but there was no way he didn’t know that name; Kristopher Morton, the former Führer, who was killed in the coup over twenty years ago. He was the only Führer who actually wanted to end the decades-old pointless civil war in Ishval and was truly fighting for a peaceful resolution. His death marked the first official military move to exterminate the Ishval tribe.

Funny how military command allowed his son to enter their force and even manage to gain such a high position.

“Why did they allow him to be a soldier, then?”

“Kid was too powerful for them to ignore. He was also a State Alchemist, and a great one at that,” Maka answered nonchalantly. Soul’s heart did a single unpleasant beat when she said ‘State Alchemist’. Maka appeared to feel his uneasiness, because she paused for a while, but she was choosing not to comment on it and Soul was very grateful for her decision. “I never say this out loud, but I think high command prefers to keep him under their surveillance rather than let him spread his wings out there. Maybe they’re even trying to control him. A foolish decision.”

“Why? Is he that strong?”

Maka took a bite of her sandwich, “Well, if it’s pure short-distance combat, he’s certainly the most dangerous.”

“Because he’s a State Alchemist?” Soul said with fabricated calmness.

“Yeah,” she smiled strangely, “His alchemy… is frightening.”

Soul had seen many frightening things alchemy could create, so honestly he didn’t think that he would be surprised at what the Colonel could do.

“If he touches you, it’s over,” Maka continued.

“How so?”

“Well, firstly, you have to know Paracelsus’s Three Principles to understand his power,” she suddenly started babbling in that excited voice she got when she was speaking about alchemy. Soul smiled inwardly. Sometimes it was unnerving to see how Maka resembled her mother. “The universe is composed of Three Principles and Four Elements. They’re always specifically proportioned, especially in living beings. The Three Principles, or Tria Prima, is consisted of _salt, mercury and sulfur,_ representing the _body, mind_ and _soul,_ respectively. We living beings can function normally because they’re balanced. But Kid can—hey, are you listening to me?”

Maka stopped to scowl at a snickering Soul. He himself didn’t realize he was laughing, his previous uncomfortable thoughts about State Alchemists suddenly scattered away. Well, no one could blame him, her childish excitement was too amusing. “Sorry, go on, go on…”

Maka still glared at him incredulously, but continued anyway, “Well then, as I was saying, Kid can manipulate the proportions of the three principles, disrupting their balance.”

“So he could, what, like destroy us with a single touch?”

“Yeah, basically. Or torture us by disrupting our minds, or even just downright unbind our souls from our body,” she straightened her legs, playing with a fried potato. “Our Professor once said that if Kid had been born with a gift like mine and was able to use long distance transmutations, he would certainly be the most dangerous alchemist to ever live. Without the use of any fifth element like the Philosopher’s Stone, that is.”

Soul shuddered. That was pretty frightening, indeed.

“He could even manipulate a corpse if he wanted to. Do you know what his title is?”

He warily shook his head, but somehow he could guess the answer.

“The Reaper.”

Boy, was he right.

But Maka suddenly giggled at his uncomfortable expression, waving her hand, “No need to be afraid, Kid’s too kind to actually use his full power. He mainly just uses it to knock people out or something, he loves his balance and symmetry too much to actually destroy the principle’s perfect proportions.”

Huh. An incredibly dangerous State Alchemist with a kind heart.

What a concept.

“You’ll find out when you see him. I’m sure you’ll get along just fine!”

Soul wasn’t too sure of that.

* * *

Kid almost flinched when his office door banged open. Almost.

“IT’S BEEN SIX DAYS!”

Kid held himself from sighing. Yes, he knew. He was also anxiously counting the days and diligently crossing them out on his calendar, thank you very much.

“I know, Liz, I—”

“WE HAVE TO GO TO THAT SATAN’S ARMPIT IMMEDIATELY!”

“Liz, I already—”

“I’LL GO TO THAT GOD-FORSAKEN PLACE MYSELF AND YOU CAN’T STOP M—”

“Elizabeth!”

Liz stopped dead in the middle of her yell with both of Kid’s hands shaking her shoulders, forcing her to look straight at him. Kid was almost hopeless when it came to stopping the Thompson Sisters from their crazy ideas, but at least he knew how to calm them down. Especially the elder sister.

“I know Maka’s late. But we can’t just go marching to the desert as we please. _We don’t help her in her research_ , remember?”

Yes. His position in the military was very fragile. He already had plenty of accomplishments, yes, but that didn’t mean high command wouldn’t demote him when they saw the chance. In fact, it only made their resentment worse.

The only reason he was allowed to supervise the Grigori Alchemist, one of the most powerful State Alchemists in Amestris, was the fact that both he and Maka had studied under the tutelage of Professor Frank N. Stein. That, and Maka had firmly refused to publish her Mama’s research under the command of any other officer.

Things were calm enough right now because no one had any solid proof that he was the current Grigori’s lab partner. But Kid deduced that the moment he officially let himself in on the Grigori’s research, they would twist the story into him conspiring a coup by using some kind of alchemical weapon.

It was tricky, being the former Führer’s son.

“But, Kid—”

“We’re going. But not now. I already sent Kilik to Gallows Hill, okay?”

Liz’s momentary calmness was replaced by anger once again, “Why didn’t you tell me?! I’m dying from anxiety here!”

Kid understood her feelings, really. It was the first time Maka ever went on a journey by herself. Usually Tsubaki or even Black☆Star went with her. Not because she was incompetent (God, no, she was far from that word), but because they all felt the mutual need to protect her and keep her from loneliness ever since the tragedy over ten years ago.

“You can’t just go, Liz. You’re my adjutant. And we have the upcoming drill with the Western HQ to plan.”

Liz opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again. She knew he was right.

“How can you be so calm?” she finally grumbled to his desk.

Kid frowned, “I am not.”

He was far from calm, actually. He placed his gloved hand over his alchemy-hidden drawer and transmuted it open, pulling out a document, and placed it before Liz.

“I have an unpleasant feeling that something big and nasty is happening around us, and that it started right after Mrs. Kamiko’s death.”

Liz read the document hastily, her expression souring more and more after each page. It was an organized document of small and seemingly trivial incidents like kidnappings and sudden population drops of some animal species. Having years of friendships with many State Alchemists, Kid was sure Liz could recognize the pattern, even if she knew next to nothing about alchemical theory.

“They were taken by the same guy?”

“And were used as experiment subjects of a sort.”

He saw the paper on Liz’s hand trembled. “But—but there’s humans in this report! Human transmutation is a—”

She stopped when she saw Kid’s grim look. He knew she was remembering the words of his Professor; that over the years, there was always an alchemist mad enough to thought it was acceptable to experiment on humans, just for the sake of science. The statement was made worse by the Professor’s implication of him nearly doing the same thing to other people if Maka’s mother hadn’t been there to stop him.

Experimenting on humans was a taboo, yes. But since when did humans shy away from taboo?

Their dark thoughts were interrupted by a second door crash. Patty’s head popped in from the hall, completely scattering the heavy atmosphere between her sister and her superior.

“Kiiiid! Maka called us!”

This was followed by the screeching of Kid’s chair and a beaming smile on Liz’s face. Finally, news. He reached for the phone on his desk, but Patty stopped him.

“No, not a military phone, silly! She called Harv’s!”

Kid exchanged worried glances with Liz. Harvar’s apartment was their secret communication base. Maka must have found something dangerous or sensitive enough to not want it traceable on a military line. Liz protested when he told her to stay in the headquarters, but Kid reasoned quickly that he needed someone to make sure nobody knew where he was going. Kilik was off and Ford was busy with his own assigned mission, so the only choice was Liz (Patty was too easily distracted). He breathed a thanks when she grumbled her agreement and quickly gestured at Patty to follow him.

They walked at a brisk pace with a calmness they didn’t feel, hoping nobody would notice their rush. Thankfully it was a short walk, and it wasn’t even five seconds after they had opened Harvar’s door that the phone rang suddenly.

Ignoring the apartment’s owner, Kid strolled through Harvar’s living room and picked up the ringing device. “Colonel Morton speaking.”

 _“Thank god, Kid!”_ Maka’s voice chimed from the other side. He exhaled the breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Seemed like Maka was okay. _“I’m sorry it took so long for me to report. There’s been a few… uh, complications.”_

His heart rate picked up again, “What happened? You okay?”

 _“I’m okay, but…”_ He waited restlessly, it was rare for Maka to be nervous, and it was rarer to hear it in her voice. _“I didn’t find anything alkahestry-related in Death City, I wasn’t looking hard enough, I guess, but—but I… I met someone…”_

Someone?

“Who?”

_“His name is Soul. He… has a history with my Mama, you could say that, and he said he knows the locations of a few of Mama’s hidden laboratories, so now he’s going with me to get more of her documents.”_

Kid frowned. That was very uncharacteristic of her. Maka Albarn wasn’t a girl who would accept help from a man easily, never mind trusting him enough to allow him in on her journey. The way she talked also implied she had much more to say, but couldn’t. Dozens of bad scenarios were swimming inside his brain. He wanted her to find Mrs. Kamiko’s research as fast as possible, yes, but he never wished for her to be in danger.

“Maka, what are you up to?”

_“Nothing? I just want to collect Mama’s documents like I always did.”_

Kid sighed. Okay, different approach.

“Okay, I believe you. But I must say I have to meet this ‘Soul’ person to make sure he’s not bad news.”

There was a pause.

 _“Okay,”_ she finally answered.

“Good. Where are you now?”

_“I’m in eastern Rashville, and maybe will stay three or four days here.”_

Three or four days. Crap. It would take a whole day from East City to Rashville. The military drill was the day after tomorrow and would likely last a week. Nobody would be allowed to take a day off, obviously.

“Are you planning to go back to Gallows Hill after that?”

He heard Maka’s hum vibrating from the speaker. _“No, I guess, I wanna get all the documents as fast as possible.”_

Kid’s frown deepened. More uncharacteristic behavior. While she was always eager, Maka Albarn was a careful person. She obviously knew the danger of carrying mountains of alchemy research all over the state while brandishing her Silver Pocket Watch.

“You know the consequences, don’t you?” he said, met by Maka’s grumble. “Just go back to Gallows Hill after you’re done with Rashville, Maka.”

_“I can’t!”_

“Why not?”

_“I—there’s just something I need to do, Kid!”_

Kid brought his hand to massage his temples, holding himself from growling. “Okay, okay. Let’s just do this. We can meet somewhere in—let’s say, ten days, and we can talk about this further. Sounds good?”

He heard Maka mumble to herself before she said rather hesitantly, _“We’ll be in Dublith by then.”_

Kid exhaled, “Dublith. Perfect. We’ll meet at BJ’s place.”

_“Okay. Bye.”_

“Hmm. Be careful.”

_“I am.”_

Kid put the phone back and let himself sink to the sofa. Harvar was, apparently, having an arm wrestling match with Patty. Both of them turned to him the moment he plopped down.

Harvar put up the faintest hint of a smirk, which was equal to a widely amused grin in his book. “So what did Miss Grigori say?”

The Colonel ignored his question, “Call Kilik back, and see if you can arrange something with BJ immediately.”

* * *

“Here it is.”

Maka tapped a rocky wall in the northern border of Rashville with her gloved hand. The stone she stroked was pretty smooth, but an alchemist would know the subtle edges of alchemical transmutation marks on its surface.

It was nothing like a civilian would picture when they think of the word ‘laboratory’. The building was underground, in the middle of rocky hills, with a firm cliff as the entrance.

Soul had been there, yes, but it was over eleven years ago. Rashville had changed and there were more buildings and roads than he remembered. Luckily for them, Maka was an expert at detecting alchemical marks and had the gift of alkahestry to lead her where the alchemical energy was flowing, using the earth’s ‘dragon path’.

It was part of how Maka had succeeded in locating Mama’s labs faster and more accurately than other people, of course, because she could feel the energy flow of Mama’s alkahestry residue and knew her style by heart. Another part of her success was that Mama tended to seal the entrances using alkahestry, which would take another month if one tried to unseal it using standard alchemy.

Sparks of green angel wings illuminated their surroundings as the transmutation sound echoed. An opening now gaped on the wall. Maka was about to step in when she caught sight of Soul still standing rigidly under a nearby tree.

“Soul?”

As she walked towards him, faint tremors were visible on the sunglasses he held awfully tight.

Maka frowned to herself. Of course, she should know better.

Even if it was an abandoned lab of his supposed savior (and creator, arguably, but she wouldn’t think of that), it was still an alchemy lab; the kind of place where he had been imprisoned and experimented on for years. Coming back here after gaining (some kind of) freedom had to be awful and frightening.

Her breath hitched at the thought that this boy had basically been willing to endure all of that just to help her in achieving her goal. _To help her prove him wrong._

Maka bit her lip at his strained expression. She squared her shoulders and bravely reached for his hand, gripping it tight.

“It’s okay.”

She could see that Soul was completely caught off guard by her action, having his personal space invaded so suddenly; his mouth parted slightly and his eyes popped at hers in surprise. Maka was afraid that she was being too forward and insensitive when Soul finally softened his expression into a slightly weary smile and tightened their hold.

Hand-in-hand, they stepped into the dark laboratory.

* * *

Soul had to distract every bit of his brain from the fact that Maka was holding his hand if he still wanted to keep the laughably shrimpy dignity he had left. Luckily she was too captivated by the abandoned room to properly notice his nervousness.

But on the bright side, holding her hand gave him the reassurance he needed; that everything was okay, that he was in the present and hadn’t gone back to those dreadful times. He was able to block unpleasant thoughts—and even his Demon—and just remembered the happy times he’d had here with his big brother.

They found a way to start the backup generator and illuminate the whole place. Maka immediately went to inspect and document a huge transmutation circle in the middle of the room, reluctantly letting go of his hand. She was careful to keep their distance short, however, much like how Mrs. Kamiko used to hover after he or his brother had a panic attack, something Soul found rather endearing.

Maka carefully shifted the sleeping cat inside her bag to find her magnifying glass. As usual, Soul sat on a nearby box, watching her work with enthusiasm. At least until a certain scratch on the floor caught his attention. He shifted some dusty boxes away to get a better look. Like he thought, the scratch was a line connecting specifically placed dots; a constellation.

It was the Canis Major.

“Maka, can you transmute on this floor?”

Maka stopped her drawing, turning at him. “Yeah, but why?”

“I recognize these marks,” Soul replied, pointing to the scattered dots on the floor. “It’s Mrs. Kamiko’s code for Wes.”

“For your brother?” she said in surprise, standing up to approach him.

“Yeah,” Soul replied, “Could be something Mrs. Kamiko left for Wes or the other way around. Wes used to come back to Amestris once in a while to get stuff like clothes and the like. It’s their way of communicating, I guess.”

“You think there’s some kind of message here?”

“Possibly,” Soul nodded. “I don’t remember this code from the last time I was here. This place is the last lab Mrs. Kamiko hid us in before she instructed us to go to Death City.”

“But this is an alchemy-sealed surface, Soul,” Maka inquired, feeling the dotted floor with her fingertips, “Then your brother, he—”

“—was an alchemist, yeah. Mrs. Kamiko taught him herself.”

Maka’s eyes widened before scrutinizing the floor again. Then she leaned towards the transmutation marks and put both her gloved hands above the Canis Major. Light green angel wings sparked for a few seconds before the surface cracked open, revealing a second layer of the stone floor.

There was nothing in there except for a few lines of a message of some sort carved on the stone. The top half was impossible to read because the stone was horribly cracked, but the bottom part was readable, mostly.

Soul froze when he read the carvings.

It was a message in Ishvalan. A selfish request from a sinful woman _._

_‘I wish nothing for myself, just for that child. Please, protect her.’_

There was no doubt on who ‘that child’ was.

And there, below the last line of her message to Wes, there was a carving of a halved sun. The top half was light and the bottom was dark; _his_ code.

Only a single line was carved next to his symbol:

_‘Stay with her, you and she will be stronger together.’_

* * *

“Soul? What’s written on there?”

Maka refrained from shaking the silent Soul and demanding the answer. The young alchemist recognized the characters as Ishvalan, but that was the extent of what she knew about it. Ishvalan was a very complicated language and it was rarely taught to Amestrian children due to the civil war. She knew she had to give the boy some time to process the message, but she didn’t like being left in the dark. She liked it even less when she saw Soul looked as if he was about to cry.

Maka didn’t understand. Soul had clearly said that her Mama was the one who transmuted the weapon into him; the one who ruined his body, but he wasn’t reacting like how a victim would to his abuser. When she thought about it further, he had always spoken about her with respect. The way he gazed at the message… it was almost like—like how a child reacts to their late parent’s memento. She knew the look well, having worn it herself countless times.

But it could only mean that they were close, right? That Mama was their savior instead of the one who had ruined their lives? _She_ couldn’t be a sinner, right?

Maka pushed those thoughts aside. No. Not now.

“Soul?”

The boy blinked several times and cleared his throat before answering, “Sorry, I just—it’s Mrs. Kamiko’s message… For Wes.”

Ah.

Another solid proof of Mama’s affiliation with the brothers. Maka smiled wryly, pulled back her hands, and clutched them on her lap.

“It’s personal, then…?”

Soul nodded at her with a strange look on his face, “Kinda, yeah.”

She bit back her own curiosity. If it was personal, then she wouldn’t pry. Even though she felt a sting in her heart for being left out of Mama’s secret, she would bear it. Even though she knew she wasn’t the most patient person in the world, she would wait. She was afraid that forcing Soul to say anything would trigger him, and she didn’t want him to experience that horrible attack again. She believed Soul would tell her if he was ready anyway, however unreasonable the belief was.

She sighed.

Again, how uncharacteristic of her.

* * *

“My Maka is everything to me, she’s the cutest and the most talented little girl in the world. She’s impossible to not adore, you will see when you meet her!”

Mrs. Kamiko was blabbing again in that disgustingly uncharacteristic tone she had when talking about her daughter. No one would believe them if they said the Head Alchemist was such a doting mother. Her usual façade was too cold and flawless.

Wes was listening with his usual amusement, sitting towards her with a hand supporting his chin. It was his older brother instincts, perhaps, that made him so excited at the prospect of a little sister to dote on.

But Soul, on the contrary, was sulking in the corner, loathing the idea.

Picturing Wes playing with a little faceless girl was bad enough, but picturing Mrs. Kamiko lovingly hugging that faceless child was worse. With Wes, at least, he knew he would always choose him over anything; they were family by birth, by blood, and they loved each other unconditionally. But with Mrs. Kamiko, he knew he was nothing but a lab animal; he’d never had the right to call her his _mother_.

A ridiculous thought, yeah. It was childish and selfish of him to be jealous of a little girl he’d never met, he knew, but he couldn’t help it.

She was not his mother, and he was not her son.

Part of him denied the curiosity he felt at the little faceless girl, never wanting to admit that after hundreds and hundreds of times hearing about her, she had, indeed, piqued his interest.

He would never, ever want anything to do with that little faceless girl.

Well, it was a useless thing to think about. They would never get out of this cursed place, anyway.

“But what if you _do_?”

Soul was startled by Mrs. Kamiko’s sudden question. The alchemist and his brother were staring at him with blank looks on their faces. The little faceless girl was standing between them, staring at him with her little eyeless face.

“Would you still think that way when you see her?” Mrs. Kamiko said.

The little faceless girl now stepped forward.

“Would you still hate her?”

The little faceless girl wasn’t that little anymore, and he was growing along with her.

“Wouldn’t you try to know her?”

The little faceless girl now had a face. A familiar face with gleaming green eyes.

“Do you still hate her after finally having met her?”

The little faceless girl—who had fully transformed into Maka Albarn—said accusingly with Mrs. Kamiko’s voice.

“Wouldn’t you try to protect her?”

 _Maka_ reached for his cheek, still speaking with her mother’s voice, but Mrs. Kamiko and Wes were gone. They were not in the lab anymore. They were in that broken church.

_“You know you couldn’t hate her, do you?”_

Yes, he knew. No use to deny it.

_“Your brother is gone. Now it’s your duty to carry that selfish request of that sinful woman.”_

Would he?

“Soul?”

_“Protect her.”_

He would.

“Soul!”

“ _You and she will be stronger together._ ”

Perhaps.

“Soul, wake up!”

Soul gasped awake.

They were inside a cargo train, halfway on their way to Dublith. Since they’d lost their horse at Little Hook on that chaotic night, they had to think of another way to travel. And since Soul wasn’t that comfortable with the thought of encountering military yet, their selection was limited.

“Are you okay? You’re sweating so much!”

“Wh—” he raised his palm to his clammy face and—oh, she was right.

“Bad dream?”

Soul did a weird mix of a head shake and a nod. Man, it seemed like he only showed her his uncool sides. Maka didn’t seem to care about his coolness level, anyhow, still staring at him with that concerned look. Since when did she gave him that much attention anyway? Soul grumbled to himself. Since Little Hook. The more relevant question was _‘why’_.

“Are we there yet?” he peeked at the slit between the cargo train’s sliding doors to avoid her scanning eyes. It was dark outside.

“Not until dawn. Six or seven hours more.”

He hummed. “You should go back to sleep, then.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

He nodded with a dry grin. She gave him one last incredulous look before pulling her trench coat over her chest, pretending to sleep.

Maka’s cat made her way to his lap and curled there, purring.

* * *

Maka blinked blearily.

When had she fallen asleep? She was just shutting her eyes for a bit and was intending to listen at Soul in silence. Her coat slipped when she sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

It was quiet.

Well, not exactly quiet, the train was loud, but there was no other sound beside it.

She looked around to find no Soul and no Blair, only crates and boxes the train was supposed to deliver. Panic almost engulfed her when she felt two soul reactions from above her.

What were they doing up there?

Maka Albarn was built from 75% agility and 25% nimbleness; it was easy for her to find a way up. Under five seconds, her head had already popped above the train’s roof, scanning her surroundings for her two missing companions.

There he was, laying down on his back with his legs swaying off the edge of the train’s cargo box. Blair was curled on her new favorite pillow; his belly. He looked calm and rather foreign, whistling a strange tune while petting her cat’s fluffy head.

Blair really seemed to like him. Huh.

“You like cats?”

Soul jolted at her voice, nearly knocking Blair off of his stomach (the cat yelped in irritation). He was quickly sitting upright and back to petting her cat to hide his surprise. “No, I—I don’t know,” he mumbled as she made herself comfortable beside him. “Animals tend to avoid me. Y’know, being weapon and all.”

Maka smiled, proud of Blair for not shying away from Soul. But when she really thought about it, her pet was not exactly a normal cat.

Wanting to steer the conversation away from sensitive topics, Maka blurted, “What are you doing here?”

Soul shrugged. “Stargazing.”

Her interest was piqued. “You seem to like doing that, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s calming. We often did it with—,” he stopped mid-sentence, stole a glance at her, and continued with different tone, “I often did it with Wes in Death City.”

Maka knew an emergency alteration when she heard one. She slit her eyes at him, but he skillfully dodged her scrutinizing glare by petting Blair harder.

Well, not that she didn’t already know what the problem was; they both knew stargazing was Mama’s hobby. She decided to let it go, it was no use pestering him over a trivial matter. What she could conclude was that Soul respected Mama enough to actually adopt her hobby.

Unfortunately, as it tended to do, melancholy crept out whenever Mama crossed her mind.

“Do you have a favorite star?”

Startled by his sudden question, Maka automatically spouted. “Polaris, maybe. You?”

“Sirius.” His answer was almost instantaneous, making her stare at him in bafflement.

“Why?”

He just smirked, “Wezen.”

Oh, the Canis Major[2].

She snorted when she caught the brothers’ inside joke. They continued to talk (and argue) about astronomical things when Maka caught sight of his eyes again. They were sparkling with an emotion similar to triumph despite the scowl that was wrinkling his face.

Did—did he just try to distract her from her glumness?

She smiled to herself, letting her body fall onto the train’s roof as she stared into the starry sky. Mama’s words were echoing in her ears as she carefully tried to feel for his soul.

_‘It’s not the shape that matters, it’s the soul that’s important.’_

It was not important whether he was an Ishvalan fugitive or a rude boy who trampled over her memory of Mama. The most important part was lying deeper inside.

When she really saw him as a person, she realized he was a gentle and kind soul.

* * *

The silence was comfortable.

Actually, no, it was not silent. The train was loud and Blair meowed once in a while, but they were all ambient noises, easily faded out by the soft tapping of Maka’s feet and the grand scenery of the Milky Way flowing above them.

Soul’s mind flew back to his strange dream earlier, and he suddenly realized that he hadn’t told Maka anything about Mrs. Kamiko’s message they’d found six days ago.

He could feel her bubbling curiosity and her disappointment every time they danced around the topic, but she always made sure she didn’t voice them out loud.

She was giving him time.

Soul cursed to himself. He would ruin the little cheerfulness he’d worked hard to build, but this had to be said. Maka deserved to hear it.

“Maka?”

She hummed a reply.

“About the message in Rashville…”

“Yeah?”

She didn’t sound surprised or excited despite her nearly unconcealed curiosity, as if she’d known he would tell her eventually. She just listened in silence while patiently giving him the time to compose his words.

“It’s about you, I think…”

Now she openly showed her surprise, bolting upright. “Me?!”

“Yeah.”

“What—what is it?!”

He swallowed a lump in his throat before whispering, “She was requesting for Wes—and by extension, me too, I guess—to protect you. ”

Maka was silenced by bewilderment, opening and closing her mouth a few times without making any sound. All she could manage was a weak ‘Why…?’

“Because we’re both Human Weapons? Because she knew we were exceptional candidates for bodyguards?”

She ignored him, once again muttering a weak ‘Why…?’

Soul glanced away from Blair and let his eyes fall on hers, finally speaking directly to her. “Because she loved you the most, Maka. And she wished only the best for you.”

 _‘But never us’_ was left unspoken.

Maka’s eyes widened as she fought against gritting her teeth. The girl slumped back in her spot, eyes trailing away from his. She tightly embraced herself with both arms. He knew she was fighting fiercely to not let any of her tears spill, and he gave her privacy, like a gentleman, by awkwardly stroking Blair’s fluffy back.

Finally, Maka was calm enough to distract herself by continuing her soft tapping.

It was quiet for a while. No, not quiet, of course, the train still ran noisily as it made its way to South Province, but the three of them didn’t speak a word. Not even chatty Blair. Soul was just wondering if that night’s conversation was finally over when he remembered one more thing he must confess.

Mrs. Kamiko had actually instructed him to be together with _her_ , whatever she meant by that.

Soul stole a glance at Maka. How would he say that without upsetting her further? He fought the urge to scratch the back of his neck. Here went nothing.

Hoping for his conversational skills to not fuck everything up for once, he inhaled once before mumbling, “Uhh, Maka? Honestly… She also left a message for me…”

Maka didn’t give any sign of surprise except for her feet’s sudden pause, which went completely unnoticed by Soul because he was talking to Blair’s ear. He took her silence as permission to continue, resuming his confession before he lost the courage.

“ _She_ said that we should be together.”

Maka’s lack of response was bugging him, so he dared to peek. When he found she was staring at him, her cheeks flushed, in pure dumbstruck surprise instead of the sorrowful shock he had expected, Soul was instantly aware of what his previous words implied.

Oh, fuck.

“I—not together like _that_ —I mean—no! What she really wrote was that—that you and I could be stronger together! Like partners, maybe—uh—or travel buddies? What I wanna say is—dammit—what I wanna say is—”

But Maka just snorted a little dejectedly. “I understand, Soul.”

Well, at least she wasn’t crying. But hell, he still wanted to throw himself off the train.

* * *

The day was shifting into evening again when they arrived at their destination; an old inn named Mandailing.

Maka had told him she was reluctant to sleep at an inn because the majority of the hotels in Rashville were owned by the military. They could get a good nap, yes, but she deduced it wouldn’t end well. The average citizen didn’t give a damn about Ishvalans, but military tended to be hostile towards them. The situation would certainly get worse because Soul was an unregistered Amestrian.

But this particular inn was different. The owner was Maka’s acquaintance, and the building was located on the outskirts of the city, far from the military’s eyes.

Soul stole a glance at his companion. Maka had been strangely unvocal about the topic of the previous day, skillfully dodging his concerned glances and trying a little too hard to be cheerful.

Did she really hate the idea of being protected by Human Weapons?

Well, yeah, actually, she might.

“Long time no see, Miss Grigori!” The innkeeper, a beefy man went with the name BJ, greeted Maka enthusiastically, scattering Soul’s musings away. “I haven’t seen you since you were, what, five?”

Maka dodged him with a roll of her eyes. “BJ, I literally slept here two months ago.”

The man huffed. “You always conveniently choose the time when I’m on vacation, don’t you?” he accused, met by Maka’s flat smirk. “Anyway, how’s—”

“No, I haven’t been to Miss Marie’s and I don’t know how she’s doing, so save your breath.”

BJ’s demeanor suddenly shifted. “Un-cute kid.” He threw a key to Maka and jerked his head up. “Your room’s the third one on the second floor.”

Maka winked at the innkeeper impishly, dragging Soul with her upstairs.

“Uh, what’s all that about?”

Maka hummed absently, “What? BJ?” she giggled, “He always pesters me about his ex, Miss Marie, who now is the girlfriend of my alchemy professor.”

“Huh?” Soul’s brows furrowed as he failed to render the mental image.

He was saved from the need to think further about the weird love triangle, because they had arrived in front of their rooms. Or _room._

There was only one room.

Maka opened the door casually, completely missing his rapidly reddening face. They had been sleeping within ten-meters of each other every night, yes, but it was always outdoors, in places that absolutely wouldn’t rouse a certain atmosphere.

Unlike a room with a bed.

Well, it had two beds, but still.

“You only got one room?” he heard himself squeak.

A flash of green light and a transmutation sound followed. A firm wall now stood between the two beds.

Oh.

“Of course,” commented Soul, now wanting to smack his head against the nearest wall.

Maka smiled smugly before throwing herself on the bed near the window without bothering to take her coat off first, sighing in contentment. “Finally, a bed! I was starting to forget that this God-given thing exists!”

Blair meowed her agreement from the sofa. She had claimed a purple pillow and was purring loudly.

Soul circled the sofa towards his new sleeping spot, warily testing it by pushing a palm on it. Seemed nice. Then he tried to sit, unbuckling his boots and letting them drop noisily. Okay, very nice. Finally, he stretched up and threw his head to the pillow, and—Oh!

God-given thing, indeed. Certainly letting this thing go in the morning was going to be a big problem.

Soul wondered how Wes would react if presented with the God-given thing. Chuckling, he pictured the ridiculous image of he and Wes bouncing up and down the bed, competing for who could jump the highest. Wes might be the older brother, but sometimes it was uncertain who was the adult between them. Soul smiled, Wes’s grin was clearer when he closed his eyes.

But strangely, the more comfortable he got, the more awake he felt. The moonlight filtering in through the window was doing weird things to him, captivating his mind in a blur of soft lights. He ended up staring at the ceiling and listening to Blair’s steady purr.

It felt foreign to him to be laying on a bed next to _the little faceless girl_ , who was neither little nor faceless anymore.

_‘I wish nothing for myself, just for that child. Please, protect her.’_

He would.

 _‘You and she will be stronger together._ ’

Perhaps.

At least, it was calming to think that Wes would certainly make the same choice.

“Maka…”

He didn’t realize he was saying her name out loud, so it was surprising to suddenly hear her humming back. He had been sure she’d already fallen asleep. Now that she gave him her attention, he felt the need to voice his decision.

“I will protect you.”

With the firm wall between them and nothing beside the moon to light the room, Soul had no way to see how her eyes rounded and her lips parted slightly, nor could he see her choking back a gasp and struggling to keep a tear from escaping her eyes.

She hummed again, but it was impossible to interpret her meaning, as he couldn’t see what kind of expression was accompanying that answer.

But as he closed his eyes, he somehow concluded:

It was a reluctant yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 It should be noted that State Alchemists and regular alchemists are different. Regular alchemists did their own research for themselves and/or for providing their services for the benefit of the people. State Alchemists submit all of their research to the state, and had to join the military ranks when required. Kamiko, however, was both, as she had done plenty of private research while submitting official papers.  [ return to text ]  
> 2 Sirius is the brightest star in Canis Major, Wezen is the second brightest.  [ return to text ]  
> 


	3. Old Buildings Tend To Collapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I did it because… because I couldn’t hate you.”

_~~I left a message for her.~~ _

~~_She will find you two eventually._ ~~

~~_When she does, please explain everything to her and your brother._ ~~

~~_Take them as far away as you can and don’t come back to this country._ ~~

~~_Live your own lives and please be happy._ ~~

~~_She will know how to keep you and your brother safe._ ~~

~~~~_This is a selfish request from a sinful woman._

_I know I don’t deserve anything from you two, but please, please, protect that child._

_I wish nothing for myself, just for that child._

_Please, protect her._

* * *

Maka didn’t talk to him.

They were falling back to square one, when she had completely ignored him and he had been making sarcastic comments just to get any sort of reaction out of her.

No, that was not quite right, actually. Maka still responded to him, but only in quiet nods or headshakes, and she’d stopped looking at him in the eye.

He hadn’t known her long enough to understand that it was her way of dealing with things that upset her.

Soul sighed inwardly, craving Wes' presence to confide in. He was taken aback by how much he actually missed her voice. It always brought him a sort of calmness, even when all she said consisted of incoherent rambling about alchemy and modern technologies, which he was utterly incapable of understanding 80% of the time.

He hadn’t expected her to be this upset over his decision, and he couldn't even imagine why she'd be upset in the first place. Quoting from Mrs. Kamiko herself, he was arguably the most evolutionarily advanced human being alchemy could produce this century; the military’s secret hot commodity. Not to brag, but he was sure any alchemist in their right mind would be exhilarated to have him under their command, a fact proven by how fierce the competition had been between the State Alchemists to be the head of the Black Blood project, or even just their struggle to get in on the research team.

_‘Ungrateful brat.’_

_‘Shut up.’_

Still, Maka wasn’t like any other State Alchemist he had encountered. She was curious and hungry for knowledge, yes, but she was a kind soul; the only person who treated him as a decent human being despite knowing his secret and race. The only one besides Mrs. Kamiko.

Maybe she really didn’t agree with his decision. Maybe he had interpreted her answer wrong.

But if he had, then why didn’t she correct him? Or at least talk about it?

They were in their room, still separated by her transmuted wall. The sound of pen on paper told him she was in her travel notes again. She mentioned nothing about locating the Dublith lab or making a plan to do so, contrasting her haste in Rashville. Or maybe she was just avoiding talking to him.

Soul glanced at the wall again and grimaced. He even missed her scowl when he called her a nerd.

He sat up from the God-given Thing and padded to her side of the wall, knocking on it softly.

“Hey…”

She didn’t give any sign of surprise, maybe because of that strange perception ability she shared with her mother. She hummed flatly, her eye corner glanced at his feet.

“You know that abusing those notes won’t bring the rest of your mother’s research here, right?”

She grunted. Okay, bad choice of words.

“Fungus will grow out of your head if you keep doing that, nerd.”

 _Bad choice_ , dammit.

She growled at her pen, making him wince. Scratching the back of his neck, he nervously sat down on her made bed. Sarcasm would get him nowhere. Grumbling to his own brain, he tried to figure out how to start a fucking normal and healthy conversation. Why was this whole speaking thing always a fucking challenge?

_‘Which you suck at.’_

_‘Well, aren’t you a little ray of sunshine?’_

They sat in silence for a while. An hour, probably, or two, who knew. The only things breaking the deafening silence were Maka’s pen and Blair’s occasional meows.

Oh, fuck it.

“Are you angry?”

Maka flinched, but still didn’t face him. “No. Why would I be?”

“Maka,” Soul sighed, “You’re not looking at me.”

Her writing stopped. She turned her chair to face him and glared viciously. “Fine! Now what?”

Oh, her scowl was back. He smiled despite himself, even if it was closer to a grumpy person with toothache than a sign of happiness.

“You don’t want me to protect you.”

It was not a question, and both of them knew it was true.

“I don’t need to be protected,” she said finally .

“But you let me.”

Maka struggled with her own words, opening and closing her mouth a few times, but in the end she just repeated her previous words with a deflated tone. “I don’t need to be protected.”

“Even if it’s your mother’s wish?”

“That’s exactly why!” Maka shouted, standing with her fists trembling on her sides as she cursed to no one.

“Why?”

“Urgh! Why is this suddenly so important to you?!”

“Because I wanna know what you’re thinking, Maka.”

This seemed to halt all of her anger altogether. She wrinkled her face at her innocent cat before slowly sliding her gaze somewhere behind him, fist scrubbing one of her eyes in frustration.

“This is stupid…”

But Soul could feel a little spark of hope that she was beginning to open up, because she was leaning forward and sitting beside him. He waited patiently, carefully keeping his _and_ his Demon’s mouths shut, giving her all the time she needed like how she had done for him.

“I just… I let you because you said it was her wish, and I want to believe that—that she had a reason to do it…” she started, her voice suspiciously thick. “But the more I think about it, however hard I deny the possibility, the more I can’t stop thinking that she destroyed your and your brother’s lives on purpose! Like she was making a shield—or weapon, whatever—for me all along! All of this, from leading me to the Death City to that message she left behind in Rashville, it was meant for us to meet! For you and your brother to eventually be my bodyguards or whatever!”

She was right, of course. It was a very Mrs. Kamiko thing to do. Everything she did was always a part of a bigger plan.

She loved her _little faceless girl_ so much, after all.

_And he was not her son._

“I just—you don’t have to do this, Soul… I’m a stranger to you!”

True. But nothing could keep him from hating that fact.

“I’m… I’m sorry…” she whispered to her knees, not exactly giving an explanation of what she was apologizing for.

He wore that toothache grin again, “Don’t be.”

She gave him a cynical look. “You can live your own life without following me as if—as if you owe me something, or telling yourself that you must do everything my Mama said, you know?”

Also true. But not quite.

“While it’s true I feel inclined to fulfill Mrs. Kamiko’s request, I also have my own reasons, Maka.”

She lifted her face at him, skeptical but curious. Ah, finally they met eye-to-eye. He almost forgot how green and round her eyes were.

“I _want_ to protect you…”

The ‘why’ she spoke with her eyes was louder than if she’d say it aloud. Soul’s hand automatically found the back of his neck, rubbing it without his awareness.

“Because… because you searched for me.”

“Huh?”

“At that church…” his mouth ran on its own, “You could just go on your way without looking back. Especially after I told you the locations. You didn’t need me anymore. And—and I kinda make you irritated and uncomfortable, I know. But you looked for me.”

She didn’t say anything and he abandoned her eyes to stare at his own fists, but there was a soft gasp from her direction.

“And you held my hands,” he continued, voice dropping even lower as he went on, “You make me feel like—like I’m not alone. And you anchored me. I think your mother was onto something when she said I should stay with you.”

_‘You know, that sounded suspiciously like a confession.’_

Oh fuck, it did.

“I…” Maka trailed off, unsure what to reply, and Soul wished he had teleportation skills so he could bury himself in the nearest cemetery at that exact second. He really should stop making a fool out of himself, seriously.

“I did it because… because I couldn’t hate you.”

It was his turn to be flabbergasted.

“Trust me, I still want to punch the living daylight out of you for speaking nonsense about my Mama,” she growled, making him grin nervously, “But for the life of me, I can’t bring myself to truly hate you…”

She stared at something on his chest, making his self-consciousness skyrocket. He silently begged for her to shift her eyes to any other goddamn direction _except him_ because he could feel his ears scorching.

Without warning, she placed her hand above his heart (he prayed to the gods to please not let her notice his frantic heartbeat), her eyes were still anchored on his chest as she said under her breath, “Your soul is so pure.”

When she finally raised her face, their eyes met, and Soul didn’t understand how he could have not realized that she was _that close_. The heat around his ears bled to the back of his neck. And his entire face, probably. Everything was coming to a complete standstill. Even his own breath was frozen.

He felt funny.

Then there was someone slamming the door.

* * *

“Maka!”

A loud shout of her name interrupted whatever weird atmosphere that was thickening between them. Both of them yelped back to either side of the bed. Maka couldn’t decide whether she was angry or grateful for the interruption.

“Maka! You have a guest!” BJ’s muffled voice echoed again.

“Guest?” Determined to keep her face schooled, she exchanged a glance with Soul. “I’ll be there in a second!” she shouted to the innkeeper.

A swift check with her perception told her it was Kid. Oh, snap, she completely forgot they were going to this inn in the first place to meet Kid. Intending to dismiss the previous whatever-it-was between her and Soul, she cleared her throat and turned the doorknob.

“It’s Kid.”

Soul’s former embarrassment was suddenly replaced by uneasiness. “You mean the Reaper?”

Maka smiled apologetically at his strained face. Having gotten used to her and accepted her occupation as a State Alchemist didn’t mean he would do the same for other people. Not to mention Kid was a soldier in active duty, unlike her, who wouldn’t wear a uniform unless she was assigned to a war.

“It’s okay.” More confidently this time, she took his hand and squeezed it, now knowing that the gesture was proficient in giving him support and reassurance.

Soul squeezed back, but was still unwilling to go. Maka tried again, pulling him gently. “Do you remember when I said I’ll be your emotional support?”

He grumbled, but his cheeks were tinting and he was standing.

* * *

“But I wanna see Maka too, Kiiiiid!”

Refraining to press on his temple, Kid reasoned with the younger Thompson patiently. “Yes, Patty, but Major General Albarn assigned you and Ford to assist Major Yumi during her investigation here.”

Patricia Thompson pouted, “I don’t wanna go with Azusa, she’s mean!”

Mean wouldn’t describe Major Azusa Yumi quite as well as ‘disciplined’, truthfully. The strict senior officer was the one usually tasked with training military snipers, currently being the best sniper in the military. Patty undoubtedly had more than a few bad experiences during her training with the Major, considering the Sergeant’s incredibly pitiful performance at long-range shooting.

Fortunately, Liz decided it was the perfect time to enter the office and reason with her sister fondly. Kid wasn’t sure of her method, but five minutes later Patty announced that she would guard the Major voluntarily. Miraculous.

After shooing Patty to her assigned spot, Kid glanced at Harv, who was pushing a button on his radio and holding his earpiece closer.

“Everything’s good, Sir.”

Kid nodded. Finally.

He advised Liz against bringing her rifle. They wouldn’t go to a battle, after all. Just to check on Maka. The Lieutenant sulked, grumbling something about being ready for unpredictable situations, but Kid suspected that she was just enjoying the thought of intimidating Maka’s new companion.

The reason why he chose BJ’s inn Mandailing as their meeting spot was because the innkeeper himself had an ill opinion of the military as a whole, which was why he enjoyed providing a safe haven for anyone with _secret agendas_ and wouldn’t divulge his customer list to the authorities even when presented by an Amestrian Silver Dragon badge.

Kid parked his car behind Mandailing Inn and stepped out, followed by a still-sulking Liz and a flat-faced-as-usual Harvar. They used the back door, of course, as the front of the inn was a quite popular diner. The innkeeper entered the kitchen right after them, carrying a crate full of liquor.

“And I thought you had forgotten your own appointment,” he said after taking a look at his kitchen intruders.

Kid gave him a dirty look. “Contrary to popular belief, Joe, I am a busy man.”

BJ smirked, setting down his crate. “Could’ve fooled me.”

The Colonel clicked his tongue, “Could you please just go and get Maka?”

“Okay, okay! Gosh, really… Could have at least brought a sack of good coffee beans as payment, but nooo—” the innkeeper’s grumbling faded as he exited through the opposite door and climbed upstairs.

They waited in silence. Liz was currently examining BJ’s liquor cellar while Harvar just stood there without showing any interest in the kitchen whatsoever. Truthfully Kid had been meaning to go by himself, but Maka’s nervous voice in their previous phone call made him a little uneasy. The quick news Kilik reported after he’d told him to check on Maka’s trail also put him on edge. There was something unusual about the Grigori Alchemist’s new companion.

“Kid!”

He automatically raised his head at his name, very glad to confirm that Maka really was okay with his own two eyes. He didn’t have the chance to reply before Liz crushed Maka into her chest like she always did.

“Maaaakaaaaa! You rascal, we told you to report immediately, did we? I was dying from anxiety waiting for your call! Don’t you ever do that again! Patty and I were worried sick about you!”

Maka made muffled noises from Liz’s chest, and Kid had to pull his Lieutenant back before she suffocated the poor girl to death.

“Liz, she can’t breathe.”

As if having just realized it, Liz let Maka go a little too fast. “Oh, whoops!”

Maka swayed backwards, but was immediately caught by a firm hand behind her. That was when the three soldiers noticed another presence for the first time.

He was a tall man (almost as tall as Harvar, who was the tallest in Kid’s team, but his slouching made the difference more noticeable), with spiky white hair and a pair of glinting sunglasses perched on his nose bridge. He had a hostile atmosphere about him, and Kid didn’t know if it was his alchemist instinct or what, but there was something wrong with this guy.

“Oh! Thank you, Soul,” Maka said as he let go of her.

Liz was scrutinizing the new guy with that same intimidating look she sported when interrogating a suspect. Probably sensing a rude comment forming inside Liz’s mouth, Maka turned to Kid and introduced her new companion with a-little-too-quickly-formed smile.

“Soul, this is Colonel Kristopher Morton—or you can call him Kid,” Kid nodded at Maka’s introduction. “Kid, this is Soul.”

Unintentionally, Kid noticed that Maka and her new companion were standing surprisingly close. He didn’t even detect any discomfort radiating from Maka as she leaned even closer and whispered something to Soul.

Wait—were they holding hands?

Very uncharacteristic of Maka Albarn. The girl usually treated physical contact with the opposite gender as something akin to a virus infection.

“This is Liz Thompson, and that guy over there is Harvar D’éclair.” Kid vaguely heard Maka resume the introductions as he continued to observe her strange behavior. He barely noticed Liz’s displeased huff and Harv’s quiet nod. What could have possibly happened between Maka and Soul for her to be this relaxed around him? Kid mused, even with him, Maka was still kept her distance sometimes, and they had known each other for over twelve years.

Those thoughts were forced to the back of his mind, however, as his observation shifted to the boy—to Soul.

Soul glanced at them warily. His posture somehow reminded Kid of a trained soldier despite the visible slouching; the dark eyes behind those sunglasses gave him away. Kid frowned inwardly. It was rude of him to think this way, but the boy’s eyes were like an abused dog’s looking at potential threats. Also, there was just this odd thing about him Kid still couldn’t place.

His gaze fell onto the accessory on Soul’s nose when it clicked.

“Is there a reason why you’re wearing sunglasses?”

He didn’t miss the way he and Maka exchanged a brief look and how her hand seemed to tighten its hold. Finally, with something that could only be described as an exasperated sigh, Soul took off his sunglasses to reveal a pair of deep red eyes. Bingo.

Out of habit, Liz and Harvar tensed beside him. Couldn’t be helped, since 60% of Ishvalans they’d encountered throughout their career were either radical haters of the military or downright terrorists. But Kid still maintained his calm posture.

“You didn’t tell me he’s an Ishvalan.”

Maka’s eyes darkened, subtly shifting her body to shield the Ishvalan boy. “Is there a problem with that?”

Kid was baffled at her sudden defiance. It was only—what? Two weeks?—since she claimed to have met the Ishvalan boy, but she was already oddly protective of him.

“No.”

“Then you could command your subordinates to put their hands away from their pistols.”

It was Harvar she was talking about, no doubt, because he was as grim as a funeral and the only way to associate him with any form of happiness was the word ‘trigger-happy’. Besides, Kid knew, despite her unfriendly demeanor towards the boy, Liz trusted Maka deeply enough to lower her guard immediately when she saw how Maka protected him.

“Harv?”

Without a sound, Harv tucked his revolver back to its holster. Maka relaxed a bit, but Soul still looked uncomfortable and eyed each of them with partly-covered hostility. Something told Kid he was glad he hadn’t worn his transmutation gloves to Dublith that morning.

“Okay, I met them. Can I go now?” Soul grumbled to Maka in a low voice, but not low enough to escape his ears.

Maka pursed her lips and frowned, but let the boy go after one look at him. Soul wasted no time in climbing the stairs and getting the hell out of their sights. Maka sighed and turned her gaze upwards, to where Kid supposed was the direction of Soul’s room.

“What’s with him?” Liz clicked her tongue, offended.

Maka waved her hand weakly. “Nothing, he’s just not the most sociable person.”

Harv snorted. “No wonder you get along well.” Maka responded with a growl.

Liz snickered behind her fist, but after clearing her throat, added, “But seriously, I don’t like his attitude! Maka needs someone gentler!”

“What are you? His mother-in-law?” Harv commented.

Maka ignored both of the Lieutenants and talked to Kid instead, eyebrows furrowed slightly in something close to anxiety. “Kid, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure,” he eyed Liz and Harv, who immediately went back to their serious mode. Liz was a little hesitant, but finally relented, nodding sharply and trailing behind Harvar to get on with their other business with BJ.

Kid followed Maka up the stairs, turning the opposite way Soul had vanished to earlier, heading towards another set of stairs to the third floor, which they knew was empty and perfect for private talks.

“What’s wrong, Maka?”

She made a move that was close to fidgeting, but that couldn’t be, Maka Albarn didn’t fidget.

“It’s about Soul.”

Figured. “What about him?”

They arrived at the third floor balcony. Kid leaned against the railing, staring down to the quiet outskirts of Dublith. Maka followed his example but turned her back to the scenery.

“Soul’s not a normal human,” finally, she mumbled.

Kid quirked his brow, “And what do you mean by that?”

Maka’s not-fidgeting transformed into soft taps of her foot, “Would you believe me if I said he can change into a weapon?”

“Maka, neither I nor you are normal and we are considered human weapons.”

“Yeah, but he’s like—a literal weapon, Kid!” her arms flailed as she tried to explain. “He can change his arm into a steel blade without any circles or arrays whatsoever! He doesn’t even do any specific moves!”

What?

“What?!” he blurted his thoughts out loud. “That’s impossible!”

“Exactly my first reaction,” she laughed weakly, “And he has two souls.”

Two what?!

 _“Two what?!”_ Okay, his mouth was losing its creativity.

“Two souls,” Maka repeated, uncomfortable. “It’s like… something artificial, I don’t know, I’ve never seen a person with two souls before.”

“Figures, yeah,” Kid muttered automatically, still bewildered by the sheer ridiculousness of what Maka had just said.

Two souls meant that there was a way to somehow divide a being’s _sulfur_ concentration and prevent the two parts to mesh together, which, as an alchemist who specialized in the balance of Tria Prima, Kid could confidently say was _utterly impossible_.

“He said… that it was Mama who made him into a weapon,” Maka spoke through her tightened jaw, interrupting his thoughts, “That—that Mama had experimented on humans for years…”

_“Excuse me?!”_

“During the civil war,” she continued blabbing as if not hearing his interjection, “Soul said they kidnapped many Ishvalan children and used them as lab animals for some kind of black project [1].”

_“What in the name of symmetry—”_

“What if he’s right?” Maka whispered to her knuckles, again ignoring his reaction. “What if he’s right, Kid?”

Kid hated the fact that it was probable. A thought about a handsome collection of illegal experiment files inside his office desk popped into his mind, and that they could very well be suggesting the very idea Maka had just voiced. God.

Kid dodged the question, “Is that why you’re so eager to locate all of her remaining labs?”

Maka just sent him a pained look.

The Colonel grimaced. Of course he knew what Maka was feeling. He had known the first Grigori Alchemist in person, after all. The idea of a noble scientist such as Mrs. Kamiko doing something as immoral as experimenting on humans was blasphemous. For Maka, protecting her mother’s good name was her first instinct. But Kid couldn’t conveniently ignore his own findings about traces of animal—and human—transmutation that were centered around Mrs. Kamiko, which were so auspiciously starting to leak right after her death.

He sighed, “I could never assure you of something I don't fully know, Maka. But what I can tell you is to believe in the mother you admire. Not very helpful, I know, but if she was the same kind woman you have loved all your life, you can always have the faith that all she did was for a good cause, and if you find something bad, you’ll still have the strength to search for the bigger truth.”

The girl made an expression between a smile and a grimace. Kid patted her head. “Now quit moping around. Your _mercury_ is fluctuating wildly and you know how I feel about balance.”

She laughed, “A sound soul dwells in a sound mind and a sound body?”

Kid smiled at the recitation of his catchphrase. “Right.”

They continued to talk about her findings in the Rashville lab, and reached an agreement that Maka would only go search for one more lab before coming back to Gallows Hill. After a while, she added rather reluctantly, “Could you—could you make Soul a legal identity? You know, so we could travel in peace?”

“Am I hearing Miss Grigori Alchemist suggesting the idea of forging an official document to a Colonel?” He threw her an incredulous look, but both of them were smiling.

* * *

Maka found Soul humming a foreign song while sitting on their room’s windowsill, staring down at the quiet city of Dublith. Blair was perching on his shoulder, tail swaying.

“Until when do you plan on sulking?”

He spun his head, eyes lightening when he found her, but his face was wrinkling in mild disgust. “They’re soldiers,” he said, as if it was a proper answer.

“I thought you already knew that.”

Soul grunted as Blair jumped on his leg. “That didn’t mean I was more prepared to meet them.”

“Me too, you know.” At his confusion, she smiled a little wryly, “I’m a Dog of the Military.”

Soul growled a disagreement almost instantly, “You’re different!”

“Different how?” she chided, approaching him and shooing his legs off of the large windowsill. Soul put down the leg that didn’t have Blair on it, freeing up more room for her to sit. It was lost to both of them that they were sitting so close without feeling any kind of discomfort.

“You don’t go around intimidating people, and you never use your title to gain power or bully civilians.”

Maka snorted, “You don’t know that.”

“I know,” he stubbornly objected.

Maka stared at him in wonder. While she understood the reason behind his demeanor, she still couldn’t understand why he was so determined to keep her on a pedestal. She knew she wasn’t that kind of a person. She just did what she thought was right. Well, maybe slightly more, but she was sure she never did anything incredible enough to earn that much respect, especially from a person she barely knew.

She was just Maka Albarn, a normal human, not the Angel of Death.

“Thank you,” she finally said, but she couldn’t see his reaction, as he hid his eyes behind his bangs and was staring out of the window, although his ears were suspiciously darkening.

“But they’re good people, Soul.”

Soul grumbled something incomprehensible.

Two weeks of traveling together with Soul told her he hated the military with a passion, even if he didn’t show it that openly. Understandable, given his background, but she was hoping he would be willing to give Kid and his subordinates a chance since they were her friends. Maka grumbled. Liz’s mother-henning made everything worse. If he continued to act this way towards every soldier they met, there would be many awkward situations forming because at least 80% of her friends were associated with the military.

Maka sighed inwardly. There was no use in forcing him to trust her friends. He just had to see it for himself and build the trust slowly, then. Trust develops with time, anyway.

Wait a minute, since when had she started thinking that she would keep him permanently? Maka groaned to herself. It was his fault for declaring that stupid vow.

Wanting to distract herself, Maka suddenly chimed, “Okay, let’s stop thinking about that. Now why don’t you tell me what name you like?”

“Name?”

“Yeah, for your official document,” Maka nodded eagerly. “You need a last name.”

“Oh… A last name,” he repeated in silent amazement, staring at her as if she was about to give him the most fascinating gift or something.

Maka felt her blood rushing to her face at the intensity of his gaze. Pursing her lips and clearing her throat, she forced her tone to stay normal, even when her voice was slightly higher than she intended, “Yeah! I mean, we can go with ‘Soul’ as your first name—even if it’s a little ridiculous—but Amestrians have last names too! So, is there anything you specifically like, or?”

Soul appeared as if he wanted to say something, but kept silent, so instead of him, it was Blair who answered with a delighted meow.

Maka scowled at her pet, “No, no, Blair, we can’t use that. And no, it’s not you we’re finding a new last name for.” The cat protested, growling. “You’re my pet cat, if there’s any last name you’ll go with, it’s Albarn!” A few sharp yowls followed. “Well, I’m deeply sorry, Your Majesty, but your underworld title has nothing to do with the rules in our house!”

Soul chuckled, stopping their interspecies bickering. Maka and Blair blinked at him before joining the snickers. Well, it was her that joined the snickering, as Blair was only purring cheerful noises. Cats don’t snicker.

“So, any thoughts?”

Soul brought his hand to his chin in a mock-thinking manner, “Hmmmm… Soul Eater?”

Maka smacked his arm, which was met with a laugh by Soul. Blair happily joined in by pawing his chest repeatedly. “Take this seriously, will you?”

“I’m joking, I’m joking!” he gasped between laughs and punches. “Stop smacking me!”

* * *

“Hey, Star!”

“Yo, Kilik! ‘Sup, bro!” Black☆Star caught the Major’s hand. “How’re the twins?” Metals clinked when they did their complicated bro-shake.

“You heard them,” replied Kilik, peeling his gloves off, revealing a pair of automail arms. He raised the left one to the engineer. “Thunder’s a bit whiny. She got bumped bad when I went chimera-hunting yesterday.”

Black☆Star tilted his head, inspecting the automail with the tip of his tongue sticking out. Kilik’s twins were one of his first creations, and still one of the best to date; two northern style steel arms with alchemical arrays engraved at the back of their palms. The left one was carved with the ‘thunder’ alchemy circle and the right with ‘fire’.

“Looks like she needs some readjusting. I’ll take her for tonight.”

Kilik complained, “Awww, I hate wearing spares.”

He snickered as he pulled out a screwdriver to detach Thunder. Kilik cringed when he screwed off the nerve bolts. Within a minute, Thunder was off, leaving the Major with only a right hand. Tsubaki came in from the shop’s back door with his lunch on a tray, chiming a greeting to Kilik as she swiped various gears and automail parts off of the table to make room for the food. Black☆Star peeked at the table. Lamb stew and Brussel sprouts gratin, complete with homemade bread and an enormous jug of pomegranate juice. Sniffing the heavenly aroma was enough to make him drool. Wasting no time, he abandoned Kilik to wolf the food down.

Man, it was glorious. Tsubaki’s cooking was on the divine level, as always.

“Would you like to eat as well, Kilik?” his wife asked the Major when he swatted _Fire_ away from his precious bread.

Knowing that Black☆Star wouldn’t continue his work before his stomach was satisfied (of course), Kilik answered with a sigh, “Might as well get a bite myself, I guess. Thanks, Tsubaki.”

Tsubaki got back with more food and a warm cherry pie (had he married a goddess?), sitting down and smiling at both men as they competed to devour the food.

“Did Maka already call you guys?” Kilik suddenly said between chews.

“Well, yes, after she got back to Amestris, but she didn’t call again after that. So, to be honest, I’m worried. Did she call the colonel?” Tsubaki replied more clearly, as what Black☆Star could give was an incoherent mumbling because his mouth was full of stew and bread.

“She really has to fix that bad habit of hers,” Kilik shook his head, ripping a slice of bread apart and dipping it into the stew. “Well, yeah. She reported before our military drill started.”

Black☆Star’s spoon stopped, but it was Tsubaki who answered with a jab of worry both of them undoubtedly felt, “No new calls?”

“No, but Kid checked on her yesterday. She’s okay.” Tsubaki’s relieved exhale was a louder echo of Black☆Star’s own. Kilik continued with his mouth full of lamb chops, “She’s in BJ’s place now. Still with her new friend, apparently.”

“Oh?” Black☆Star made an amused noise. It was a very rare occurrence for Maka to stand being next to a male over five minutes without combusting, let alone two whole weeks. It must be an intergalactic record, because world record wouldn’t represent this feat quite as well. “Now I’m really interested in knowing this guy.”

“Well, Liz keeps saying he’s not a right man for Maka, whatever that means,” Kilik said with a wolfish grin. Tsubaki giggled, taking a slice of pie that his husband offered. (Contrary to popular belief, Black☆Star wouldn’t selfishly take all the food to himself. Of course he would share with his woman, what kind of man did you took him for?) “She ranted about how bad his posture and attitude was, that he’s a rude man with punk-ass getup and creepy sharp teeth. But Kid said Maka liked him, though. They were so suspiciously close for a new acquaintance level.”

“Really?” his wife practically glowed at the prospect of a ‘male friend’ for their sister. They both had always been a little worried that Maka would never find someone. The young alchemist had never enjoyed the thought of romantic love, especially after witnessing what old man Spirit did all her life. Well, sometimes it was just a perfect excuse Black☆Star needed to harass her by setting her up on a blind date (the Second Lieutenant Ford one was still his masterpiece).

“Yeah, Kid never said it clearly, but he implied that they were holding hands,” Kilik whispered conspiratorially at Tsu, making her glow brighter. Black☆Star rolled his eyes. Honestly he had forgotten how Kilik could be such a gossip when he wanted to. “Oh, and he’s also an Ishvalan, it seems.”

Black☆Star’s spoon clinked against his plate as his movements faltered for a second. He was still staring at his stew, but he could feel Tsubaki’s eyes briefly fly to him in worry.

He felt his lips forming an emotionless smile.

“Ishvalan, huh?”

* * *

Kid stared at the newly forged document in his hand. Maka’s new companion finally had a ‘legal’ citizenship under the name ‘Soul Evans’. They spent three hours on the phone arguing about an absurd amount of weird names before Kid kindly reminded her that a normal name would be best.

He couldn’t do anything about his race, however, because even though Maka did a good job in dressing him like a common Amestrian, the boy’s appearance was still absolutely Ishvalan. Even so, Kid did write his ancestry as mixed-race. As a part-Amestrian, at least Soul had more of a chance to avoid further trouble if he happened to bump into a soldier in the future, because pure-blooded Ishvalans often got the short end of Amestrian’s racist laws.

Changing those laws would be one of his top priorities when he finally got the highest seat.

“Colonel!” Second Lieutenant Ford knocked on the open door with a serious expression, adjusting his glasses.

“Ford.” Kid put Soul’s document down and nodded to him. “So? How was it?”

Ford gave him a rather thick document. “I’m afraid it’s like what you said, Sir.”

He flipped those papers impatiently, frowning. “I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I, Sir, but that’s what I got. I can’t go further without alarming the higher-ups, this is the black project we’re talking about,” Ford adjusted his glasses again with half-concealed exasperation.

Kid pursed his lips, “I understand. I’ll try to find another way for us to gather information. Good work, Ford.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Oh, and put this document into the database.”

The Second Lieutenant took the papers curiously, inspecting Soul’s portrait. “Oho, is this Miss Grigori’s infamous new sidekick?”

Kid nodded, “The very one.”

* * *

Despite promising that he would protect her, Soul didn’t have any real chances to prove it, since their travels were mostly uneventful, thankfully. But that was until they reached the West Province’s border.

The town they were resting in was filled by shifty people and various kinds of criminals, like all the towns in the western rural area were; where war victims mingled with poor people and were eventually pushed by the conditions to allow anything to make a living, including deceiving newcomers and robbing travelers.

Maka was scrutinizing the large map outside a tiny rundown train station, trying to figure which way to go back to Gallows Hill and locate a place where they could find some food, while Soul was curiously examining a parked motorcycle (a terrible way to travel, Maka thought, but Soul unfortunately was fascinated by those hideous machines) on the station’s almost empty parking lot.

She didn’t know what was happening until she felt her body slammed roughly on the nearest wall, a knife on her neck.

Why did things like this always happen when she closed off her perception?

“Did your Mommy never tell you it’s dangerous to walk by yourself in strange towns, little girl? You give me no choice but to rob you!” the man holding the knife grinned madly.

Maka sighed. She was hungry and tired and honestly couldn’t bring herself to care about any thievery. Also, gosh, this guy had a bad breath.

Wrinkling her nose, she raised her wallet and was just about to smack the thief with it when the man in question shrilled and fearfully cast his eyes down. A red and black blade had impaled his stomach.

Maka gaped as Soul pulled his blade out of the guy’s body without emotion, staring as the thief writhed pitifully on his feet. He raised his arm again for another blow, but this time Maka was alert enough to leap forward and stop him.

“Soul! What are you doing?!”

Soul raised one of his brows as if stating the obvious, “I’m protecting you.”

Maka opened her mouth but was too shocked to immediately reply. The thief weaseled away from them while Soul’s attention was on her, stumbling on his own feet and screaming as he wobbled away, her wallet lying forgotten.

“Y-yeah, but that guy’s just a lousy thief, Soul!” Maka rasped, finally having found her voice. “There was no need to hurt him!”

“But he hurt you!” Soul said, still in that confused tone. “I said I would protect you, didn’t I? What did I do wrong?”

Maka refrained from gritting her teeth, “Yes, but that’s not how you protect people! Not by slicing at everything that goes near me!”

Soul’s frown deepened, “I’m a weapon, Maka. That’s kinda what I was trained for.”

That made whatever comeback Maka had to die in her throat. Somehow she almost forgot that this awkward but sweet boy she found a month ago was supposed to be a human weapon. A _lethal_ human weapon. He had never told her about his whole past clearly, but he implied that he and countless other children had been kidnapped at a young age and were originally trained to be some sort of a special soldier unit. It wouldn’t be strange that his meaning of the word ‘protect’ would differ from her own; that it meant ‘destroy everything that would potentially harm her’ instead of ‘making sure she was safe’.

Again, she didn’t allow herself to think about that, dismissing how Soul said that it was _Mama_ who lead that inhumane project and forged him into this cold-blooded weapon.

Despite her stubborn denial, the thought of those things brought hot liquid to the corners of her eyes. She sucked back her frustrated cry, shuffling inside her bag for a handkerchief. Soul’s right hand had already transmuted back into flesh and bone, leaving the thief’s blood dripping from the tip of his fingers.

She lifted that bloody hand and started wiping gently to give herself some sort of distraction. “You’re… you’re not just a weapon…” she angrily whispered, more to herself than to him. “You’re a person…”

Her concentration on Soul’s bloody hand prevented her from noticing the way Soul’s eyes scrutinized her and how his frown smoothed into an unreadable look.

* * *

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Maka brushed Soul’s question off again.

They were standing in front of Barrett’s Automail Shop instead of the Albarn residence next door. Obviously because she thought it was better if they lifted Tsubaki’s worries first by staying at Barrett’s instead of her own home. It was certainly not because she had forgotten about what a scene Papa would make if he knew she brought home an adult human of another gender. She would throw him out of the window no problem, of course, but she couldn’t guarantee that Soul would still be perfectly healthy without any gunshot wounds before she managed to do so.

It deepened her paranoia that her Papa could see them from one of her house’s too many windows.

Blair meowed encouragingly from Soul’s shoulder. Maka smiled at her cat; sometimes she really knew the right words to make her feel better. Or right meows, she supposed. Squaring her shoulders, she turned the doorknob of Barrett’s shop’s side door.

“MAKA!”

A rough bark echoed as soon as they stepped into the house. Maka flinched. She should’ve known there was another reaction she should be worrying about more than Papa’s.

“ _SIS!_ ”

She couldn’t see anything except a blob of blue before being crushed into a very beefy hug and enveloped in a thick smell of oils and molten steel.

“Black☆Star! Eeek— _gross_!”

His actions might make him look like a doting brother, but Maka was familiar enough with the man to know he just wanted to rub as much dirt and oil all over her.

“Is that what you say to your mighty brother after leaving home for so long?!”

Instead of answering him, Maka sputtered angrily as she struggled to get out of his steely cage.

“Put me down or I’ll transmute your precious screwdrivers into a giant sword and stab you with it!”

To her great relief, Black☆Star let her go. “Psh, as if your midget ass could reach the top shelf.”

Her relief was short-lived, alas, because Black☆Star shifted his whole attention to an awkward Soul, making that aggravating mad grin.

“What’s this, dear sister?” Black☆Star said, still in his mocking disappointed-big-brother voice, “You didn’t come home for weeks, and not even a single phone call, and now you bring home a boy-toy? I’m ashamed of you, young lady!”

“Wh—he’s not my—Black☆Star!”

Soul didn’t help a little bit by leaning in and whispered innocently, “What’s a boy-toy?”

Maka couldn’t help the aggressive hiss nor the sharp jab to his ribs. Soul cursed as he rubbed his chest, confused—and offended—by her reaction. Black☆Star added fuel to the fire by gasping, “What a rude way to treat your joystick!”

“Star, I swear to god—”

“Still no?” the engineer didn’t seem bothered in the slightest bit, shrugging in an exaggerated display of disappointment. “Just plain boyfriend, then.”

An edition of Helmont Theory of Biological Alchemy crashed into Black☆Star’s skull without warning. Maka retreated her weapon back into her bag with reddening cheeks.

Seeing her violent reaction seemed to detain Soul from asking another question, which was good. She didn’t think she could handle explaining to Soul what Black☆Star meant with ‘joystick’.

“Geez, did you lift every piece of the rubble in Death City? Your chop is getting meaner!” The loud engineer stood again while grabbing his dented skull. Of course. If a single Maka-Chop could make him stay dead, then Maka wouldn’t have so many problems throughout her entire childhood.

“You asked for it!” she sneered, still didn’t dare peek at Soul. “And for your information, I called _your wife_ every few days for the past two weeks!”

The eye-roll and grin Black☆Star sported made her fume. He knew. He just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to mess with her. Like always.

“Anyway, Black☆Star, Maka’s brother,” Black☆Star picked himself up and extended his hand to the Ishvalan boy.

“…Soul.” He took it, hesitant, but then blurted confusedly as if couldn’t stop himself, “I didn’t know Mrs. Kamiko had a son?”

Black☆Star and Maka exchanged a glance, but her pseudo-brother took it pretty coolly, grinning. “Blood ties don’t define family.”

Soul’s eyes widened at those words, but before he could reply, there were footsteps echoing from upstairs. Their commotion apparently had woken Tsubaki up. The pregnant woman ran straight to Maka with both arms open, nearly crying.

“Maka-chan!” Tsubaki wailed. “Thank god you’re finally back! I was so worried!”

Maka laughed weakly into Tsubaki’s shoulder and patted her back, wondering if her bones had cracked from the amount of crushing they had received in the last ten minutes. Why did people love to hug her so much? She refused to acknowledge Papa’s opinion that she was cute and cuddly.

Thankfully Tsubaki decided it was enough smothering for the day and shifted her gaze to her companion. “Oh, is this Soul?”

Soul looked ready to run, uncomfortable being the center of attention, but Maka grabbed his arm and yanked him closer. Blair assisted her by jumping down and pawing his leg forward.

“Yep!”

Tsubaki scrutinized him from head to toe before fixing her eyes to his. Maka somehow felt as if her parents were judging a boyfriend she brought home, which, in a sense, was partially right.

No, no, no. She certainly wasn’t bringing a boyfriend and the couple were certainly not her parents.

Soul flinched away from the older woman’s gaze, unconsciously leaned towards Maka. Tsubaki finally decided she was satisfied with her observation, but unfortunately, she chose to comment right away, “Wow! Your eyes are really as pretty as Maka-chan said they were!”

Maka’s voice climbed two octaves higher, “Wh—Tsubaki-chan! I never said anything like that!”

Perhaps.

Black☆Star made an interested noise, and Tsubaki’s eyes sparkled with something similar to mischief as she countered Maka’s sputtering denials. “No, no, no, I remember clearly, you said he has pretty eyes at least twice, also you said he has a melodious voice when you called me from Dublith, also he has a cute—”

“AAAAAAHHH!” Maka clapped her hands on Tsubaki’s mouth before she could pulverize her dignity any further. Dammit, she didn’t know if her ears were producing smoke from the sheer temperature of her blush.

There was a low whistle from behind her. “So you did bring home a boy-toy!” Then there was a mock sob. “Our little Maka has grown!”

Maka threw Black☆Star a beautiful series of expertly-worded curses, making Soul gape at how colorful her vocabulary was. Oh yeah, she rarely cursed in front of him. Well, not with the heavy tiers, anyway.

For the record, she _never ever_ said anything like that about Soul. Tsubaki was obviously making it up.

Maybe.

Maka grumbled to herself. It was just that when she started to see Soul as just himself, she found it was so easy to forget who he really was. He was just a kind (and sometimes irritating) Ishvalan boy with a pure soul. It was disturbingly effortless to forget the real reason behind their current companionship.

It was easy to forget that he was a weapon possibly created by her Mama.

Swallowing the ill thought, Maka mumbled to Tsubaki in Xingese, “By the way, Papa’s not home, is he?”

“No. He’s in East City. Kilik mentioned something about an investigation with Major Yumi last week.”

Maka exhaled. “Oh, thank god…”

Black☆Star, who couldn’t pronounce any Xingese for the life of him but understood a couple of words due to growing up with it spoken around him, said, “Are you worrying about old man Spirit making your boyfriend his new shooting target?”

“He’s not my—!”

“Now, now, we can catch up more over dinner!” Tsubaki said hastily, breaking their banter, “I’m sure Sid and Myra would love to meet Soul too!”

Maka huffed, but her expression softened as she caught Soul’s uncomfortable wince. She smiled encouragingly, and he replied with a grin, even if it was still a little strained. They walked inside to the private part of Barrett’s residence, following the married couple.

Their meal was pleasant, all in all, if Maka ignored Black☆Star’s obnoxious teasing and Tsubaki’s sparkling eyes whenever she did as much as steal a glance at Soul. Sid and Myra, luckily, were a more normal couple than their children, and they treated Soul casually, making him feel calm enough to relax and actually enjoy himself.

The absence of her Papa made her confident enough to sleep in her own house. Papa was a wealthy nobleman, considering how many residences he owned. But instead of the other fancy manors Papa owned in the bigger cities, Mama had chosen this one as their residence. While the house Maka now owned was Albarn family’s smallest one, it was the most beautiful.

Maka cheerfully showed Soul around the house. He actually gawked when they arrived to his room. Maybe because the grandest place he had slept in was BJ’s old inn, or maybe it was just the queen-sized bed he stared at with sparkles in his eyes.

She did not realize the implication that giving him a private room meant he was really going to permanently stay with her instead of being temporary travel buddy like she thought he was.

Maka was about to bid him good night when he suddenly blurted with a mischievous grin. “Are my eyes really that pretty?”

She responded by kicking his foot and stomping away to her own room, the chiming of Blair’s pumpkin collar followed her.

She would never tell him that the answer was _yes._

* * *

They spent the next two months travelling all around Amestris, and Soul was beginning to really like his current life as Maka’s travel buddy slash bodyguard.

Of course, knowing the location of a lab didn’t guarantee that they would find a document or anything alchemy-related in it. So far, they only uncovered one new finding after Rashville. Maka was getting frustrated, wanting to go all the way, but the Reaper Colonel made her promise to go back to Gallows Hill whenever she finished fine-combing a location. Good decision, Soul thought, because he wasn’t sure Maka was going to rest otherwise.

Besides, it was nice knowing they had a place to call home.

Soul still hadn’t had the chance to meet Maka’s father. She always talked about him in such a repulsed manner whenever Soul tried to ask, which was intriguing him to no end. Wasn’t a child supposed to love their parents?

Her other family, though, he could understand better. He even started to feel relaxed enough with Sid and Myra, who apparently were the ones who had raised Maka after Mrs. Kamiko had passed away. Maka’s Xingese friend Tsubaki was even more like her mother, always taking care of her and helping her around the house.

But it was her brother Black Star that he didn’t get.

The guy was loud, obnoxious, and overflowed with energy. He always treated Soul casually, but only when Maka was also in the room. Without her around, Soul could feel that Black Star was somehow trying to keep his distance from him. It was the complete opposite of what Maka had told him; that her brother was a very annoying person with no concept of personal space.

Well, it wasn’t like he was bothered by it, Soul decided as he stared at Barrett’s automail shop from Maka’s patio. The less he had to socialize the better.

“Yo, Evans!”

Soul turned a second too late (he was still trying to get used to his new name). It was the Major with the dreadlocks, Kilik Rung, who had called him. Soul nodded instead of answering, watching warily as the soldier strolled through Maka’s garden.

“Is your partner home? I have news for her.” Soul nodded again, jerking his thumb to the second floor window where Maka’s library was. The Major shook his head, “C’mon, man, it won’t kill you to speak a little!” Soul rolled his eyes, but still didn’t open his mouth.

It was nothing personal, really. It was just that Soul always found it difficult to speak to other humans without him coming off as rude or just plain hostile (something about his tone and grumpy features, Maka said), so he often opted for silence when Maka wasn’t there to help filter his words. Especially if he liked the other person enough.

Major Rung, who was always insisting to be called ‘Kilik’, often dropped by to see Maka’s progress whenever the Reaper Colonel couldn’t make it, which was becoming more often these days, something Soul was thankful for. He liked Kilik far more, even after knowing that he was also a State Alchemist in addition of being a soldier on active duty. The Major just had this easygoing and friendly air that let other people easily sense his honest nature and be at ease.

Soul led the Major to Maka’s book nest, where he knew she was, still diligently studying the circle they found in Rashville. To his surprise, they found her staring at Northern Province map instead. Maka’s greeting to Kilik and their subsequent discussion went over Soul’s head as he proceeded to read a book about music he had been enjoying lately. He wouldn’t understand a thing even if he listened to their alchemical rambling anyway.

But he found himself being pulled into their conversation when he caught an intriguing word: Briggs.

“We’re going there?”

Maka froze mid-sentence as if she had just remembered that he was also in the room. She sneaked a glance while pursing her lips, looked like contemplating something.

“No. _I_ ’ _m_ going there.”

“Not a chance!” Soul instantaneously protested, “I’m _going_ with you!”

“It is too dangerous for you, Soul! It’s perfectly in the middle of military ground!” she yelled, “Kilik just said that Ford found old erased files about odd alchemy activities on Briggs mountains. _Briggs mountains, Soul!_ It’s a restricted military area! I can get in with my Pocket Watch, but you’re a civilian! Not even a legal one, I might add! Besides, we‘re not even sure if Mama was there! I can’t take you! No!”

Grinding his teeth, Soul shouted back, “Very touching, Maka, but it only makes me wanna go even more!”

“Listen to me, idiot—”

“No, you listen! There’s no way I’ll let you to go to that dangerous place without me!”

“You’re a civilian—!”

“Actually,” Kilik piped in, “There is a way for him to get in.”

Both whipped their heads at the man, one of them was hopeful while the other was wary.

“The issue is for him to get in without being questioned, right?”

Maka glared at her fellow alchemist, but begrudgingly nodded. “Yes, and to not have any curious soldiers wondering about what we’re up to, preferably.”

Soul grunted. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that was out of the question if they realized a State Alchemist was taking an Ishvalan to a restricted area. He knew, dammit, but it wouldn’t make him back down.

Kilik clicked his metal fingers. “Solved.”

Maka quirked her brow, “How?”

“Oh, I know people,” the Major just replied airily, waving one of his automail arms.

* * *

Maka was still bulging her eyes at the couple in front of her, her jaw somewhere on the floor.

They were just stepping out of North City’s train station when they were greeted by a familiar alchemist trader and her pink-haired girlfriend.

Turned out Kilik’s ‘way’ of getting her and Soul inside Briggs Fort territory was through the niece of the fort’s highest command Lieutenant General Tsar Pushka, who was none other than Miss Jacqueline Dupré. Maka sensed that Soul was equally stunned beside her.

“We meet again, Miss… Uhm, I believe I didn’t catch your name before?”

“Maka Albarn,” Maka took her hand, still stunned, “Uh, thank you for helping us, Miss Jacqueline.”

“Ooooh! The second Grigori Alchemist!” her eyes lit up in recognition. “Please, call me Jackie.” She gestured to the woman beside her, “And you’ve met my girlfriend Kim Diehl.”

Miss Kim ignored her girlfriend as she scowled at Soul. “Your boyfriend didn’t take good care of his hair! I approve the bandanna look but the way he styled it is just inexcusable!”

Well, it was true that his hair was not as fluffy and carefully spiked as when Miss Kim had styled it, mainly because Soul was not that knowledgeable with hair products yet and was often too lazy to do anything more than combing it into its current haphazard style. He had also changed his usual headband with a thick bandanna because of North City’s colder climate but—wait a minute—

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Maka squealed loudly, avoiding Soul’s eyes, which were also darting anywhere but her behind his sunglasses.

“He’s not?” Miss Kim slit her eyes at them, incredulous.

Maka cleared her throat and stifled her blush, “He is…”—what should she say anyway? “…my traveling friend, Soul Evans.”

“Is he now?” Miss Kim quirked a sly smirk.

“Now, now, Kim,” Miss Jacqueline—Jackie—interjected, but her eyes were twinkling with the same mirth as her girlfriend’s. Maka squirmed, recalling her behavior in Little Hook, she could see why the couple thought they were dating, giving her none-too-subtle hovering over Soul after his episode. She had a worrying suspicion that these two women liked gossip as much as Tsubaki or Liz.

Thankfully, their ride had arrived, saving them from more embarrassment. Fort Briggs was located even further north than North City, right in the middle of Briggs mountains. Maka was glad she had left Blair home as she felt the air get colder with every passing mile. The cat might have endured Death City’s crazy heat just fine, but Maka knew she got extremely lethargic in colder climates.

“So how exactly does this smuggling plan of ours work?” Maka spoke.

“Oh, no, no, it’s not smuggling. We’ll go through the fort’s gate _legally_.”

“But that’s—”

“I have the privilege of going in and out of the fort without any questions. And of course, that also applies to people I bring with me. Courtesy of my uncle and father,” Jackie hissed the last sentence with partial distaste. “Kilik told me you don’t want any escorts either, so I’ll request for you to be left alone. But you have to remember you still have to be subtle and not to draw any suspicion, Maka. Briggs is known as the strongest stronghold for a reason.”

Maka nodded, it wasn’t like she was planning to do something illegal, but the possibility of Mama doing research within a deadly force-authorized territory was bugging her. It was obvious that whatever it was wasn’t meant to be published, so she couldn’t help but to be extra discreet and avoid as little military intervention as possible.

A snort came from her side. She glanced at a grumpy Soul. He was obviously disliking this clear abuse of power, but she knew he couldn’t afford to voice his thoughts since it actually worked in their favor.

Jackie explained further about her connection to the northern military as the car they rode ran steadily through icy roads. Apparently she was also the daughter of North City’s mayor, Colonel Felix Dupré. But Jackie herself hated her family’s nepotism within Northern HQ ranks, and wanted to free herself from the obligation to serve the Führer. It didn’t stop her family from trying to sway her into joining military by giving her free access to the fort, however, as she was a talented alchemist, and a State Alchemist within the family would surely strengthen their dynasty.

But then it was clear to Maka that the couple’s dislike of nepotism didn’t necessarily mean they had a strict law-abiding sense either, because Jackie had said a bit too casually that she’d been using the access to do some ‘side business’. Her deduction strengthened when Kim let slip that the business they’d been taking care of involved firearms trading. Part of her wondered if the couple was one of Sid’s anonymous suppliers. The world was small, after all.

“So how come you are friends with Kilik?” Maka asked, deciding that it was best to not poke around their side business. “You didn’t go to military academy, right?”

“Oh, we studied under the same alchemy professor.”

Small world indeed.

* * *

 _Pride_ looked at the detailed map of Northern Province with concealed distaste.

So this was where that woman had hidden her greatest research. The wench even implied that she had slipped _her_ secret there too. The audacity.

The latest report said the little Grigori was making her way to Briggs. It wouldn’t do. _Pride_ needed the little Grigori to be as far away as possible, at least until _she_ destroyed the wench’s papers and finished with preparations. Or should _she_ lock her up here instead? She couldn’t cause trouble if she was imprisoned. Yes. Good plan.

Then there was also the problem at Eastern HQ. The little Reaper had actually started to snoop around _her_ business. _She_ had never given the little Reaper any attention before, because he was not a threat to _her_ , but that would surely change if he kept sticking his nose into inappropriate places.

 _Pride_ ’s eyes narrowed with disgust. She called for her _children_ without so much as lifting her eyes from the map, “ _Wrath_. _Gluttony_.”

Two figures presented themselves silently, obediently awaiting orders. Ah, how satisfying it was to have _them_ bending to _her_ will so easily.

“Take care of things at Briggs. Bring little Grigori to me.”

 _Gluttony_ tilted _his_ head, “What about the other one? The Ishvalan boy?”

“Do as you please. Eat him for all I care.”

* * *

Soul’s paranoia level was getting pretty high.

It was not because they were travelling within Amestris’s strongest military stronghold. Well, that too. But he just couldn’t shake a vague feeling that something was going to go wrong.

They bid Jacqueline and Kim goodbye as they went their separate ways. They had successfully passed Briggs’s gate without any problem, Jackie had introduced them as her ‘guests’, which ensured that they would be left alone without actually needing to flaunt Maka’s Silver Pocket Watch. The couple continued their travel to the fort while Soul and Maka hunted for the location of Mrs. Kamiko’s lab, if it was really there. They had agreed to meet in three days, though; it was the extent of what Jackie could afford them without alarming anyone.

He tugged the pigtail of the shuddering girl beside him.

“You okay?”

She hummed a response before squatting down to touch the snow. Only after months of travelling with her did Soul understand that the action actually meant she was sensing what she dubbed as the earth’s ‘dragon path’ to search for unusual flow of alchemical energy.

The girl was shuddering again as she looked behind her shoulder. There was no one in the snow field except them, of course. But Maka would know if there was a soldier hiding due to her weird perception ability. She didn’t say anything to indicate an incoming threat, but her movements were nervous and guarded.

Following her steps, Soul wondered if she also felt the same paranoia.

* * *

On day one, the dragon path had led Maka to the ghost town of Baschool, where she eventually found a promising clue under the abandoned city lab.

It puzzled her to no end. She expected the search to be more complex and time-consuming, considering this was located inside military territory. She definitely was not expecting Mama to hide in plain sight like this. Frowning, Maka couldn’t decide if it was the best or the worst place one could build a secret lab.

But finding something consequential was a different task entirely. No one would expect an alchemist to stack their research notes on a table in the middle of their lab. In fact, it was not necessarily recorded on paper. They had no clue what they should be looking for, so their only choice was to peel their eyes open and scrutinize every surface for any abnormalities.

So that was what she had been doing for the past three days, warily inspecting the place inch by inch with Soul following close behind her. He had been unusually antsy since they passed Briggs gate; the nervousness was clear on his face, deepening her own anxiety. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something would go terribly wrong.

Swallowing the uncomfortable thoughts, Maka stepped further into the dusty facility. To her dismay, she found absolutely nothing. The place was completely empty. There was no alchemical residue or texture… save for one negligible wall.

Maka tapped the wall curiously. A secret passage? She wasted no time before transmuting a door. Like she’d thought, there was a stone stairway down from where the door opened. Exchanging nervous glances with Soul, Maka took his hand and warily started to climb down.

Walking through the dark passage was a bit daunting, especially when the stairs gave way to a straight tunnel. Time felt like a surreal concept the longer they walked through the passage. The air was thick and the darkness caused an intimidating sense of claustrophobia. The only thing keeping her from going insane was the firm reassurance of Soul’s hand, and by the way he squeezed hers, it seemed like he felt the same.

When it was her and Tsubaki (or Black☆Star, sometimes), it was always them walking in front of her like a protective mother hen covering their chicklet, something she never gave any thought to until she started traveling with Soul. With him, they always walked side-by-side, sometimes with fingers linked.

It felt nice.

They stopped when the tunnel branched. The left one was identical to the former tunnel, if not a little bit smaller, but the right one was closed off by a crooked pair of steel doors, with a large X painted on it. The dried red paint made it look like it was painted with blood. Maka felt goosebumps run down her spine. She was by no means a cowardly girl, but her subconscious told her there was something very dangerous behind those doors, and Maka gladly followed her instinct to take the other path.

Without sound, they walked through the left tunnel, trying to not think about the creepy sealed doors too much. It was five minutes later—or maybe an hour, who knew—that the tunnel started to go uphill.

They climbed and climbed and climbed, until a slit of light appeared in front of them. Maka hurried to it, transmuting an exit door hastily, very eager to leave the tunnel.

“Where are we?” Soul croaked, blinking rapidly to adjust his eyes to the overwhelming light after being in the dark tunnel for so long.

Maka, thinking that this venture was getting more and more bizarre, replied, “Dunno. Looks like an old dance hall or something?”

The room they stepped into was full with dusty furniture and broken glass, and what appeared to be an ancient piano was standing hauntingly in the middle of the room. The floor under their feet was patterned in red and black checkerboard. Dusty red velvet curtains full of spider webs framed the glassless windows.

Their current task of searching for Mama’s records was completely forgotten as she wondered why an eerily odd dance hall like this had been built in the middle of a mining town. An abandoned military mining town, to be exact.

Was it Mama who build this—this place? Why? What for? If it was meant to disguise the lab it would work no better than putting a glowing sign with ‘Treasure inside!’ written on it outside the building.

But when she braced herself to peek from one of the glassless windows, they were not in Baschool anymore, though the ghost town could still be seen dozen miles away. She should’ve figured, they had walked inside the tunnel for hours. A chill ran down her spine again and she felt the odd urge to duck her head and get away from the windows. Something in the air was not right.

A broken piano note rang terrifyingly loud, making her squeak. Spinning her head wildly, she saw a sheepish Soul with a finger on the piano.

“ _What are you doing, idiot?!_ ” Maka fumed. She certainly wasn’t going to say that he had scared her witless. She was by no means a cowardly girl.

“Sorry,” he winced, the hand that was touching the piano flew to the back of his neck. “I was just—the place looks familiar… somehow…”

Distracted, Maka padded to him with a frown, “Familiar how?”

“Dunno,” he shrugged, glancing to the broken instrument in front of them. “I just felt like I have seen a room like this. Piano and all.” Then he frowned, cursing lowly to himself, as if annoyed with his own brain.

Intriguing.

Maka tentatively sat down on the piano bench, inspecting the ivory keys carefully. Her instincts told her that whatever she was searching for had something to do with this instrument. Sliding her gloved fingers atop the keys, Maka closed her eyes.

Oh! Keys!

_Keys!_

Her eyes widened with excitement. It was the _key_! But her hope deflated as quickly as it emerged, when she remembered she knew next to nothing about piano, or music in general. Not knowing what she was doing (and feeling a little dumb), she pressed a random note.

“Oh, that’s a G.”

Maka whipped her head at her companion. “You know how to play piano?”

“Heavens, no,” he gave a slightly dark chuckle. “Raised in a lab, remember? I just happen to have read your music books, which were the only things worth a read in your ridiculous book nest.”

“Oh,” she replied dumbly, completely missing his implied jibe. She had forgotten that Papa collected those kinds of books too. They never got Maka’s attention, because she deemed them irrelevant for her goal to become a State Alchemist.

And maybe, her traitorous little heart jabbed, because music kind of made her remember the times she had lost; when things were different, when Papa used to play piano for Mama, with her dancing merrily around their living room.

Dismissing the thought, Maka pressed the G note again. There were very subtle vibrations coming from the instrument, which she had missed the first time. Tilting her head in wonder, Maka pressed it again.

G.

“Is there something about that note?” Soul asked, maybe because she kept pressing the note with a face full of concentration.

G.

Grigori.

Could it be?

“Soul, do you know the G… uh, what’s the word? The G… the G-chord?”

Soul blinked, clearly confused with whatever she was up to, “Yeah?”

“Can you play it?”

He quirked his brow, but complied. Maka shifted a bit as the boy leaned down to press three keys; G, B, and D, not that she knew enough to tell which was which. A tingling sensation of alchemical electricity ran past her feet, and almost at the same time, a loud thud echoed.

Both jumped at the noise, Soul instantly placed himself between her and the startling thing, one arm held over her protectively. To their relief, it was just a dusty table. Maka nudged him forward to inspect the fallen piece of furniture closer. It was just an ordinary round table, at first glance, but its gorgeous carving became more and more intriguing the longer she stared. It might appear a mere ornate surface to untrained eyes, but she recognized a few alkahestry symbols.

“Hey, there’s numbers here, are these important?” Soul’s voice called from the other side.

Maka stepped to him, scrutinizing the complex carvings. Yes, there were numbers. She immediately pulled her notebook out to list all the visible numbers.

88\. 16. 1. 23. 53. 57.

What did they mean?

Maka abused her brain, thinking in miles per second. Think, think, think. She glared holes to the floor, while Soul tilted his head curiously at the fallen table, inspecting a Z-shaped carving at the center of the round table.

Wait—table… numbers… Z…

Z—in the middle of a circle… _Zahl?_

Oh!

Maka was sure she heard her brain click. Her eyes were completely round. “Soul, you’re genius!”

He blurted, “Huh?” But Maka ignored him, squealing in thrill and scrawling hastily.

Table, numbers, and _zahl_ —proton.

Periodic table, and _atomic numbers_.

88\. 16. 1. 23. 53. 57.

Radium. Sulfur. Hydrogen. Vanadium. Iodine. Lanthanum.

Ra-S-H-V-I-La— _Rashville?!_

Maka nearly dropped her notebook in shock. Seemed like she had been chosen as Lady Luck’s favorite daughter without her knowing. She vaguely heard Soul call her name and felt him tug at one of her pigtails, but she still ignored him, rapidly flipping her notebook to the page where she documented the circle from Rashville.

It was a good thing she had been diligently studying and breaking the circle down to its basic parts. It was easy to see which elements constructed the alchemical array. She had been excited to learn that this circle also had alkahestry combined in it, having a ‘path’ twirling from inside out; which was why Maka knew how to arrange the elements into one specific order:

Beryllium. Helium. Molybdenum. Boron. Gadolinium.

Smirking, she started to convert them into their atomic numbers.

4-2-42-5-64

But her triumph was short-lived. What now? What did those numbers mean? Had she missed something? A second hint?

She was grumbling to her Rashville-circle drawing when Soul leaned to her and casually piped in, “Interesting. Those numbers can be piano notes too.”

“What?!” Maka nearly gave herself a whiplash from turning too fast. “ _Seriously?!_ You can change numbers into notes?!”

He rolled his eyes, “It’s weird for me to say this, but that’s supposed to be common knowledge, Maka.”

Maka felt her cheeks heat. It was not her fault she wasn’t interested in music, dammit! She hid her embarrassment by scowling at the boy and dragging him by his collar to the broken piano. Soul stumbled behind her, yelling for her to stop with the violence. Ignoring his grumbling, she pointed at the instrument. Soul complied begrudgingly, taking a second to convert the numbers into the keys before pressing F-D-F-D-G-A-F in order.

The piano vibrated, as if there were gears turning inside it. Both of them watched in bewilderment as the instrument’s lid slowly opened without any human assistance.

“Whoa… cool!” Soul stole Maka's words.

Nodding unconsciously, she circled the open instrument and peeked inside it. There were strange machines and gears there, which might be the cause of the piano keys not making a proper sound. But there, deep within the metal forest and layers of piano strings, was a small music box.

Standing on her toes, she reached carefully for it. But it was unfortunate that she hadn’t inherited her Papa’s height, for the piano was concert-sized and the box was twisted in the most awkward angle imaginable, leaving her to flail wildly without so much as touching the damn box. Fortunately, her travel buddy had the limb length to make it, but she had to endure a maddening blush and he had to struggle keeping his snickers to himself if he didn’t want his shin to be kicked. Within a minute, she was already cradling the music box and Soul’s snickers had been replaced with muttered curses (yes, he hadn’t had such a big success).

The little thing was magnificent, full of carvings and paintings of alchemical symbols.

Maka cheerily transmuted a fluffy wrap from one of the velvet curtains, gently wrapped the music box, and placed it cautiously inside her bag. Soul closed the piano lid, still grumbling about tiny alchemists and unnecessary violence. She was about to say something when, for the third time that day, a chill ran down her spine, her soul perception suddenly going into high alert.

Something really was wrong.

Seeing her sudden stillness, Soul also shifted into his defensive mode, hurrying to her side with one arm ready to transmute at any moment.

Their horrible foreboding presented itself as two disturbing soul responses behind them.

But saying that they were two soul responses was not quite right.

It was similar to Soul’s double-soul, but theirs were tainted, a lot more sinister and contained more than a hundred other souls. The Ishvalan boy’s _other_ soul was twisted and dangerous, yes, but it was still… humanly sane, somehow. These people’s souls, however, were drowning in a storm of sorrows, desperate cries and horrifying fears. Maka shivered violently; she wanted to throw up.

Soul appeared to sense danger the instant he caught sight of her stiffened face. He spun to face their guests while throwing his blade-arm in front of her protectively, jaw set and eyes darkened.

The two strangers couldn’t be any more different. One of them was very skinny, with pinkish hair and a sickly complexion. The other one was the walking definition of muscle, with dark skin and strange X mark on his face. When the one with pink hair shifted, Maka could see a strange tattoo on their upper arm; a snake biting its own tail, Ouroboros.

Her mind flew to a certain copy of ancient alchemical document in her library; _The Chrysopoeia of Cleopatra_ [2]. Ouroboros was the analogy of the essence of alchemy; _all is one, one is all_. And it was representing the transmigration of souls, which was linked to the supposed creation of Philosopher's Stone.

She thought of all the sickening souls inside of them. What a horrid taste.

“Oh, I know why they call her Grigori! She has the same smell!” the beefy one barked in delight. “Hey, Crona, do you think she’ll taste the same?”

Wha—

“Oh, shut up, Ragnarok! Your voice is so irritating!” the other one replied with annoyance.

“You shut up!”

“Who are you?!” Maka shouted bravely, even if her pitch was higher than she intended. “What do you want?”

Both strangers stopped their banters to stare at her. She gulped. Dammit, she was by no means a cowardly girl!

“You’re so annoying,” drawled the skinny one, “I don’t know how to deal with annoying girls!”

“Stupid! We’ve already decided to kill them, haven’t we?” the beefy one bellowed. A growl was heard from Soul as he instinctively moved closer to her.

“That’s not what _Pride_ told us!”

“ _She_ didn’t say anything about bringing the goods _alive_!”

Gritting her teeth, Maka had a very sick suspicion that they were talking about them. She was a formidable fighter and Soul was definitely not an easy kill, but these strangers had something that made her alchemist senses screaming in alert.

Still, the more frightened she felt, the angrier she became. And the angrier she became, the more reckless she behaved. She glared at the bantering strangers, who were still quarrelling like they were invisible to them. Maka Albarn wasn’t one to take it lightly on being ignored, so instead of quietly slipping away like a sane people would, she snapped at them without bothering to lower her volume, “I said, who are you?!”

Soul hissed his disappointment at her admittedly unwise move, but she was angry—not scared, dammit! —so she hissed back.

Both strangers whipped their heads at her, furious to be interrupted in the middle of their own fighting. “Okay, okay! I’ll speak! Just shut up, will you?” the skinny one clicked their tongue.

“I am Crona, the _Wrath_. And this is Ragnarok, the _Gluttony_. We’re here for a cleaning job.”

* * *

He had been paranoid since the start of this journey.

He had been. But he never imagined they would meet these people.

His blood knew before his brain did, recognizing the similarity they shared deep in their souls.

They were the same as that one woman who lorded over the State Alchemists before Mrs. Kamiko came into his life. Their pulsing souls, so wickedly violent and cruel, were the same as _that woman’s_. His blood gurgled as his Demon hissed in excitement, forcing him to grit his teeth.

_‘Good, good. There will be blood!’_

Soul suppressed a shiver. It was not lost to him that the Demon didn’t care whose blood it’d be.

Maka’s unwise move doubled his already spiked anxiety. He wasn’t one to run from a fight, but somehow he sensed that fighting these people— _these creatures_ —wouldn’t be the right decision. His blood whispered that they were facing enemies they probably couldn’t defeat.

“I am Crona, the _Wrath_. And this is Ragnarok, the _Gluttony_. We’re here for a cleaning job.”

The skinny one’s words were completely calm compared to the violence of their next move. In a blur of pink and black, the Wrath thundered forward at the girl behind him. His blade blocked the attack ten centimeters before Maka’s face, snapping her back to high alert and assuming a fighting stance.

In a wide slash, Soul launched the Wrath back to a wall, breaking it to bits. His Demon giggling happily. He ignored him. His eyes were still red.

“You okay, Maka?” he snarled without turning back.

“Y-yeah. Worry about yourself!” her startled answer reached him, pitch still higher than normal. “I’ll take the pinky—Wrath, whatever, you take care of the beefy one!”

Despite the situation, Soul found himself smirking, blood itching to be given a task to kill.

Shit. That wasn’t good. She didn’t say anything about killing.

“Aaaah, you can turn your flesh into blades… I don’t know how to deal with flesh turning into blades…” the Wrath drawled from their pile of rubble, voice a shade away from insane. There were red sparks of electricity on the arm Soul had cut. “You make me so irritated, you know? Your blade… your blade!” Horrified, both he and Maka watched the Wrath’s injuries closing up via an unmistakably alchemical process, leaving no trail of any scar as if the fifteen centimeters cut hadn’t been there at all.

_Impossible._

Wrath lunged at him with a deranged cry. Soul was still too shocked by the sheer impossibility of Wrath’s healing, but Maka was quick enough to form a defensive wall. The Wrath shouted angrily and shifted to attacking the girl. Soul watched her form a lance to defend herself, but his attention was snatched right away because the beefy one had nearly chopped his head off. Soul cursed. It wasn’t the time to get spaced out.

The Gluttony laughed maniacally again. “Hey, do you know that I’m allowed to eat you, tiny freak?”

_‘Let him! Let him! Then while he’s fixated on your flesh you can stab him to your heart’s content!’_

_‘Shut the fuck up!’_

Soul gritted his teeth, trying his best to keep his eyes red.

But keeping his insanity at bay was a hard task when the enemy he faced was far more violent and feral than he had anticipated. He had no time to stop. Heck, he didn’t even have time to breathe. Gluttony’s attacks might be simple and predictable, but his strength and power made a single blow terrifyingly deadly.

Soul was sure he’d cracked a rib and his left ankle was probably sprained, but he went on. If he stopped, he would die.

The Demon’s giggling stole a second of his concentration, which resulted in Gluttony biting his left blade-arm. A sharp growl left his chest as Gluttony trapped his whole left arm. Fuck. A single squeeze and his bones would shatter like twigs. He didn’t have time to think, his bitten blade was starting to _crack_.

Out of pure instinct, Soul transmuted his leg and beheaded Gluttony with one lightning-speed kick.

_‘Oooooh, good show, boy! Good show!’_

_‘I told you to shut up, you disgusting gremlin!’_

Wheezing, he detached Gluttony’s head from his blade-arm. That was seriously creepy. He slowly transmuted the blade back into flesh, wincing nauseously. Thank god, Mrs. Kamiko made it so that damage sustained on his blade-form wouldn’t affect his actual human body; as it was just a metal, inanimate object, not living cells and tissue. Still, he didn’t dare think about what would happen if his blade actually shattered. He had more important things to worry about.

Maka was still fighting ferociously against Wrath. He immediately dashed to them, arm transmuted into newly-forged blade.

“Maka!”

“Soul! Behind you!”

“Wha—”

A punch sent him crashing harshly to the floor. Oxygen left his lungs from the sheer power of the blow. He gasped, not entirely understanding what had happened.

“Soul!”

He crawled back up to see _Gluttony_ standing in front of him, mad grin splitting his face ear-to-ear.

_What the fuck had happened?!_

“I—” he rasped, _“I killed you!!”_

Wrath stopped their attacks on Maka to sneer at him with disgust. “What could possibly ever make you think that a rotten imitation like you could kill us? Irritating!”

A pair of tiny shaking arms were wrapped around Soul, helping him stand. “Th-they can’t die?” Maka’s voice squawked beside him. “How?!”

“I killed you!” repeated Soul, still unable to believe that Gluttony was standing without any injuries— _or even blood—_ in front of them after being _beheaded_.

Gluttony and Wrath weren’t so nice as to give them time to be shocked. Both immortals leaped at them from two directions. Soul shoved Maka out of the way while blocking Gluttony’s blow with a kick, but he missed Wrath’s attack, feeling their punch connecting to his gut excruciatingly as both of them flew a dozen meters from their impact point.

Coughing up blood, he kicked Wrath away. His struggle to stand halted altogether when Maka’s sharp scream cut the air. He whipped his head wildly to search for her.

_Please, no, no, no!_

His eyes found her struggling to get out of Gluttony’s muscly cage, right when the foreboding feeling he had had since the start of this journey snapped into one conclusion:

_They wanted Maka._

They always tried to separate her from him, though he didn’t feel any form of killing intent when they attacked her. They actually aimed to knock her unconscious or at least disarm her. But it was different with him, there wasn’t the slightest sign of restraint. They attacked to kill. He swallowed hard. That could only mean one thing; _they were fighting to take Maka away, and he was an unwanted obstacle._

Maka shrieked when Gluttony’s filthy tongue licked the blood on her cheek.

There was a giggle inside his brain.

A switch was flipped.

_‘It’s showtime!’_

His eyes were black.

In a second, he was already gripping Gluttony’s arms and crushing them like glass. There was a feminine voice shouting, but he couldn’t hear the words nor cared enough to listen.

His mind completely erased everything that was irrelevant to killing the enemy. He was a weapon, and he existed to kill. He wasn’t allowed to feel fear or any other emotion whatsoever.

Old instinct kicked in, cutting the ties between his pain tolerance meter and his brain, transferring it to strengthen his five senses instead.

Gluttony was back on his feet, arms healed, and barking something Soul couldn’t bring himself to care. Irrelevant. His sole purpose was to kill the enemy in front of him, nothing more, nothing less.

If the creature couldn’t die, then he would kill it until it stayed dead.

Both of his arms were blades. He knew he wouldn’t have any chance of survival if he stopped attacking.

Kick. Spin. Left punch. Stab. Kick. Slice. Slice. Slice. Punch.

How satisfying.

He lunged forward and slammed his body to Gluttony’s back, producing a twin blade from his torso that stabbed right through the creature’s body.

Screaming in pain, Gluttony tried to crush him in a death grip, but he was faster. His scythe arms sliced Gluttony’s claws as he kicked backwards to launch himself out of the immortal’s attack range.

“SOUL!! LOOK OUT!!”

His eyes were red.

Her voice brought him back, conveniently right before the world collapsed all around him.

* * *

There was something wrong with Soul.

Maka’s breath caught in her throat. He didn’t even respond to her yells, lunging blindly to the Gluttony while dodging the creature’s attacks with sharp movements.

_What was he doing?!_

_Did he even understand that his enemy was basically immortal?_

His movements were precise and powerful, but he definitely didn’t care about injuries the slightest bit.

The most worrying thing, however, was that his souls had switched. The artificial part was now dominating, tainting his otherwise blue soul to pure black.

Maka watched in bewilderment as the Ishvalan boy continued to slice Ragnarok with each blade produced from his body. He actually fought evenly with the giant immortal. No. _He was besting him_.

Unfortunately, she was in no position to be distracted.

She paid the price for neglecting her own fight when Crona’s punch met her gut and sent her flying an impressive length away. Coughing blood, her feet wobbled as she tried to stand.

"Aaah, are you ignoring me? How dare you ignore me! I don't know what to do about people who ignore me, but it makes me mad. Mad!" Wrath's eyes followed hers as she stared disbelievingly at their rapidly closing wound. They giggled. "Funny, isn't it? Like magic! Except that it's not. _Human brains just can't understand it yet._ "

Something caught in Maka's throat. _Did they just say something she thought they were saying?_

Her mind started to go downhill from there, but she caught herself. No. She couldn't think of Mama yet. She couldn't afford to lose focus.

And she was totally right. Crona's feral attacks were impossible to dodge or even guard against if she didn't give all of her concentration. But miracle tend to happen to those who least expect it, whether it was the good or bad kind. Maka was halfway through activating both her circles when a huge chunk of roof crackled dangerously right above Soul’s head. So, like a very experienced alchemist should be doing in the time of crisis, she shoved him out of the way with her alkahestry-gloved hands instead of transmuting a protective wall.

“SOUL, LOOK OUT!”

There was a flash of green angel wings among the thick cover of dust. Maka squinted to make sure the idiot boy was okay.

Only that there was no idiot boy in sight.

There was just a spear. No, not a spear, a _scythe. A vicious, intimidating, two-meter-tall scythe._

Maka choked on her own breath, staring at the grim-reaper-style weapon in her hand. It was a disturbingly beautiful thing, but she had no time to properly admire it. The handle was engraved with so many alchemical symbols, arrays, and circles. Its blade was long, very long, with strange words in ancient alphabets carved on both sides. The weapon was jet black, save for the bottom half of the blade, which was glinting with red. Deep red. Like a certain pair of eyes.

Soul’s eyes.

“Soul?!!”

 _“What the fuck?!”_ a deep voice came from the weapon, the very same voice her dear stupid friend had.

“That’s _my_ line!!” Maka yelled back at the blade like an idiot.

It’s not the shape that matters, it’s the soul that’s important, _yes_ , but how was she supposed to ignore this kind of shape?!

Their banter was rudely interrupted by two alarmingly vivid presences Maka felt from each side. Without thinking, she swung the scythe—which very much likely was Soul—to guard against two incoming attacks. It—he—was heavy, but Maka didn’t endure ridiculously heavy combat training with Professor Stein for nothing. Her technique was top notch. Unfortunately, the weapon was considerably taller than her and she was more used to lances, so she couldn’t help the occasional clangs when the blade crashed into something.

_“Hey, do this properly, will ya?!”_

“I’m trying my best here, thank you very much!”

Her adrenaline amount was bordering the impossible level, apparently, because she realized something impressive was happening with her perception. Even among the thick fog of dust, she could feel her enemies’ exact moves and pinpoint their location with incredible accuracy.

Her usual level was good enough, but usually she just felt the souls’ general directions, not knowing exactly where each of their limbs were like she did now. She could even feel every material around her, as if her perception was picking up the buzzing electrons of every atom. It was like her alkahestry wasn’t only guiding her through the dragon path, but also illuminating everything along the road.

Fascinated, her concentration swayed a bit as Ragnarok’s attack missed her neck by a hair. She couldn’t be horrified nor rejoice, because Crona’s strike came right after. Panicking, Maka was torn in a heartbeat decision between transmuting a defensive wall or swinging Soul to block the attack. Her body, however, dumbly chose to combine both. She blocked Crona’s punch with Soul’s handle while activating her transmutation circle. Her miscalculation of Soul’s length caused his blade to crash harshly at the floor, followed by a loud ring of his curses.

Transmutation sounds followed the sparks of bright green angel wings. In the next second, Crona was sent flying a dozen meters away, impaled by several red and black spiky pillars formed up from the floor.

Indeed, miracles tend to happen to those who least expect it.

“Wh—” Maka gawked, “What just happened?!”

Because there was no way she just did a transmutation. Her hands were nowhere near the floor. Even if she did, it was the scythe in her hand that was supposed to change its shape.

 _“I—I think I just… transfer it?”_ came Soul’s unsure reply, and he sounded just as shocked as her.

“What do you mean ‘transfer it’?”

 _“I don’t know!”_ Soul squawked back, _“I just felt this energy coming from you, and before I knew it, it flowed through me into the earth!”_

What the hell?

_“This is all so weird!”_

Oh, was it really?

Maka bit back her sarcasm because Ragnarok sprung towards them with his tongue lolling hungrily, giving her one perfect second to see that there was an Ouroboros tattoo on it. The next second she was flying above the immortal creature and knocked his head with Soul’s hilt. Without hesitation, she stabbed Soul’s blade onto the earth as she landed ungracefully. Green angel wings sparked as spiky pillars were formed a second time, this time piercing the Gluttony.

There was no time to breathe, indeed. Crona was right behind her the next second, before she could figure exactly when the Wrath had escaped from their own crucifixion.

Missing the chance to guard, Maka was sent crashing to a wall. Soul’s yell warned her just in time to dodge Crona’s blow. _Bless him_ , Maka shuddered; that strike landed exactly where her head had been a moment ago. She used Soul’s handle as an anchor to launch herself out of the Wrath’s aim while sending a transmutation. The wall in front of Crona blasted in the form of horizontal spikes, impaling them for the second time.

Maka was taking a short breath when suddenly, like a puzzle, everything clicked in the most disturbing way.

Soul’s transmutation light was _green_.

He just transferred her transmutation to _a long distance_.

The thing he did was _alkahestry._

There, in her own hand, was the unshakable proof that her Mama was indeed a sinner.

His words from that first night she met him creeped into her ears; _“She was the one who personally transmuted me, Maka.”_

Soul was right.

Her occupied mind failed her to register what was really happening around them. She just heard a loud crumble and Soul’s horrified voice before a pair of firm arms clutched her body for dear life.

The whole place was collapsing. She lost sense of the immortals in all that chaos, but to be fair, she wasn’t paying attention to anything except for the horrible proof of her Mama’s sin. The arms were still tightly wrapped around her body as the world turned sideways, but when the loud crumbling noises stopped, she was alone in the thick blanket of dusty rubble.

Maka dared to open her eyes, still not entirely understanding the situation.

“Soul…?”

A wet cough answered her. Unfortunately, her brain was in too much distress to understand the gravity of a wet cough. But thanks to the thinning dust clouds, her eyes finally snapped to a horrifying sight that suddenly punched her back to earth.

Soul was laying under the debris, with an ominous amount of something red pooling around him. It took a few seconds for her to register that it was the metal bar in the middle of his chest that was making the red pool.

Immediately, perhaps as an act of a final denial, her brain pushed everything out of its forefront other than the dying boy in front of her. Like a robot, she mindlessly performed all first aid she knew, thinking only that he would die if she didn’t.

Soul gurgled out a handful of blood, choking on his own breath. Maka hissed, she didn’t have a choice but to pull out the metal bar and close the wound before he bled to death. Wasting no time, she tapped the crooked metal, transmuting its shape into a straight clean pipe and reduced its length.

“Hold on, Soul. It’s gonna be rough!” she mumbled to the gasping boy, holding the pipe firmly and—dear—started pulling it out.

Never had she thought she would hear his voice in this dreadful way.

She couldn’t shut her ears against his excruciating screams, but her hands were steady and her eyes were focused. Inch by inch the bar was pulled, accompanied by a haunting amount of blood spurting from his chest and the deafening volume of his cries.

_She knew Soul’s screams would haunt her for the rest of her life._

Finally, after the most agonizing minute of her life yet, the bar was pulled out completely, leaving a bloody gash in the middle of his chest. There was no time to celebrate. He wasn’t breathing.

“Soul? Soul, stay with me!”

Ignoring the terrifying lack of answer, Maka quickly draw her alkahestry circle around him using his blood. She had never been a religious person, but every fiber of her being was praying to the reaper—if he really existed—to give her time. She couldn’t hear anything besides her own heartbeat as she placed both of her hands on the circle.

“Come on, Soul… Come on…”

Both of her hands were cold despite being drenched in warm blood. She couldn’t hear the transmutation sounds. Her heartbeat was still too loud.

She nearly cried when he finally gasped awake and started stirring. Fucking thanks the reaper for being late.

“Maka…?” Soul’s weak groan reached her ears. He seemed to not completely be aware of everything yet, but a strained smile was forming on his lips when his hazy eyes found her, whispering deliriously, “Good… You’re okay…”

Ah, his soul was blue.

Her heart was starting to feel again, but Maka wished it never did, because the devastating thought that she just saved—and had been saved by—Mama’s creation was back to the very front of her brain.

Denial was always useless.

How foolish of her.

She couldn’t bring herself to look at him or to let herself be openly joyous that he was alive. Her heart felt burnt after the clashing emotions from nearly losing a dear friend and being saved by the living proof of Mama’s sin.

Maka had always known, deep inside her heart, that all this time Soul had been painfully right.

Only this time she didn’t have anything to help her deny it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Black project is what they call a country’s illegal activities. It doesn’t exist on the papers and the citizens are forbidden to know of its very existence. The Black Blood Experiment where Soul and Wes had been a part of is an example of Amestris’s black project.  [ return to text ]  
> 2 A single sheet document which contains only symbols, drawings and captions, including an Ouroboros drawing, made by Cleopatra the Alchemist (not to be confused with Cleopatra VII, Queen of Egypt). She experimented with practical alchemy but is also credited as one of the four female alchemists that could produce the Philosopher's stone.  [ return to text ]  
> 


	4. A Library Isn't Built For Hiding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Look into my eyes, Maka. Say it. Do you want me to go?"

~~_Maka has the power to unlock your fullest potential, and you have the power to emphasize hers._ ~~

~~_Your brother will explain everything when the time comes._ ~~

_Stay with her, you and she will be stronger together._

* * *

Pride glared at her useless children with seething anger.

"It was a simple task! How could you fail?!"

"I'm—I'm sorry, Madam Medusa," Wrath stammered. "But the other one… The Ishvalan man… He is a weapon! The imitation!"

Pride's eyes widened. Well, well, seemed like the task wasn't a complete failure. She had searched for that thing for over ten years, who would have known that the Little Grigori would be the one who would bring it back to her?

What irony.

"Well, whatever. I will spare the both of you this time. Get out," she dismissed Wrath and Gluttony, waving a chimera over. "Eruka, are you finished yet?"

"Everything should be completed two days before the deadline, Medusa."

"Good," she purred. "I think it's time to see how that wench's doing."

A snake made from shadows slithered out of their lair in the direction of Gallows Hill.

* * *

The first creature who greeted her when she stepped into her own room was Blair. And the cat wasn't happy.

Her pet howled nonstop, her tone comparable to a disappointed parent when they found out their daughter had sneaked out in the middle of the night. Shame that Maka didn't have any energy left to contest her cat's accusations. It wasn't like Blair was wrong anyway.

Picking up the cat, she slumped onto the bed. "I'm sorry I didn't bring you this time, Blair, but North Province wasn't a really suitable place for cats."

Blair made a noise that was unnervingly identical to a belittling snort.

"They have bears, Blair. Bears!"

Blair hissed.

Tired, Maka scowled at her pet. "Well, sorry I assumed you can't handle a bear, Your Majesty. Now can I have my sleep in peace?" The cat meowed sharply and gave her one last dirty look before hopping down from the bed, padding sulkily to her own pile of fluff.

Maka buried her face into the pillow. Yes. She needed sleep.

Actually, she needed a coma.

She had to empty her brain and try her best to not let her thoughts wander to a certain injured Ishvalan boy in a certain chamber right under her own bedroom.

Maka sighed. She knew this was a losing battle, so she let her mind replay the events from the past week.

After that confusing fight and that horrid revelation, Maka never actually paid proper attention to anything. She knew that Kilik and Ford, of all people, were the ones who found her dragging a bloody Soul out of the rubble. She also knew that it was Kim and Ford who managed to find an underground doctor for Soul while Kilik and Jackie fabricated a cover story to General Pushka. She knew, but didn't really care, only followed them around on autopilot.

She diligently avoided any questions her friends threw at her about the entire debacle, and more importantly, she diligently avoided Soul, who she knew had been sending her concerned looks and signals of wanting to talk ever since he woke up.

She just couldn't.

Maka vaguely remembered the doctor's comment about how strange Soul's blood was, because his blood apparently had sixty times more iron than a normal human's, without actually showing any signs of hemochromatosis[1]. There was something about supercharged healing as well, but she didn't stay to eavesdrop.

 _Of course he had a ridiculous amount of iron_ , Maka giggled humorlessly to herself. _He was a scythe._

_A scythe that Mama made._

She had ignored both the Ishvalan boy and the music box for the remainder of the week, hiding herself behind a book until Soul had recovered enough for Kilik to take them back to Gallows Hill.

The music box was now laying on her nightstand, silently witnessing her crying herself to sleep.

* * *

Right under Maka's room, Soul was lying on his bed, wide awake.

Not because his injuries had been bothering him (well, that too), but because he was aching to talk to a certain green-eyed alchemist.

He thought the Rashville incident was bad, when Maka refused to talk to him and would not look him in the eye, but this was worse. She didn't even bother to hide that she was actively avoiding him. Hell, he wasn't even sure she'd been acknowledging his presence at all.

Rashville had been uncomfortable, but this? This _hurt._

He wanted to see her green eyes, hear her voice, hold her hands. He wanted to make sure she was really okay. He wanted to make sure he was still allowed to be by her side.

Because after many hours in silence to think, he had found the reason of her new behavior.

_'Can't be helped. You let her see a demon.'_

He swore at his own brain, eternally cursing his Blood's manifestation. It was the bastard's fucking fault in the first place!

Yes, he had lost his control over his blood. He had transformed into a mindless killing machine right in front of her eyes. What was different from him and those immortals? In the end, he was the same; a bloodthirsty monster. He had given in to the madness, unleashing every urge to kill.

Fuck. He had _enjoyed_ it.

Soul brought his arm to cover his eyes. It had been so long since he flipped his switch like that. It must have been terrifying to watch.

On top of that, he had transformed into _a fucking scythe._ As if he wasn't enough of a freak already.

What the hell was that anyway?

He grumbled to his pillow, shifting to his side while trying not to jostle his still tender ribs too much. God, sleep was impossible.

* * *

Next morning gave a new hope for Soul. Maybe, if he explained himself carefully and properly apologized, she'd listen.

He limped to Maka's kitchen, immediately brightening when he found her silently brewing coffee. She was always in a good mood—or at least better—when she had coffee in her hands. She gave no sign of noticing him, adding a spoonful of sugar into her mug with a blank look on her face. Maybe she closed her weird perception skill; she looked dead tired (that skill took quite a handful of energy if used continuously, something Soul learned the hard way). God, she looked even more terrible from up close.

"Hey."

Her spoon clinked as she flinched, immediately pulling herself back and taking a step away from his voice.

A block of ice was plunged into Soul's gut.

He suddenly wanted to run as far away as possible. But to his surprise, it was her who did. Maka grabbed her mug and cantered out of the kitchen, leaving his still frozen body to stare at the coffee she had spilled in her haste. Fuck. This was worse than he thought.

 _'_ _She's afraid of you.'_

Soul couldn't even curse at his Demon. How could he, when what the little bastard said was true?

* * *

Maka crouched behind her bedroom door, still cradling her lukewarm coffee.

She couldn't face him.

Not after dismissing his story a thousand times. Not after selfishly accusing him of fabricating truths and throwing slanders. Not after convincing herself that he was wrong for so long.

Everything swirled in a confusing mix of embarrassment, anger, sorrow, aggravation, fright, and shame.

She didn't know how to face him. She didn't even know if she wanted to face him.

How did she act around him before? How did she talk to him again?

She stared at a photo on the wall; at the smile of a woman she loved her entire life. Suddenly she didn't know if the woman's smile was warm or cold. Suddenly she remembered that her Mama was a war veteran. Suddenly she believed other veterans' words a little more; that Mama was ruthless and cold on the front lines. Suddenly she didn't know her anymore.

Maka Albarn had been wrong. Kamiko Albarn wasn't a saint; she was the Angel of Death.

What should she do? How could she deal with this? How could she ever continue her work? How—

A rapid series of knocks startled her. Hastily wiping her tears, she stood and blocked the door, afraid of facing him again so soon.

"Maka!"

She didn't know whether she was relieved or upset that it was Black☆Star's voice. Apparently her mind was in such disarray that it didn't even occur to her to activate her perception to check. She set down her mug on her nightstand and cracked the door open, revealing a brightly grinning Black☆Star, skin covered in sweat from his early morning practice.

"What?"

Her brother blinked at her irritated tone. "What a fiery spirit so early in the morning." She scoffed at his snickers. "For pomegranate's sake, you look like your beloved pet's been murdered in cold blood. Take a quick shower and come over. Tsu's cooking those Xingese noodles you like so much. Drag that travel buddy of yours along as well."

Her flinch didn't go unnoticed by Black☆Star. Curse his ability to be far too observant at annoying times. He turned his head curiously in the direction of the kitchen. "What did your boyfriend do this time?"

"He's not my—" Maka sighed, "Never mind. Just leave me alone, would you? I actually have work to do. I'll go get my share later."

"Maka." Dammit. He used his serious tone. "Something happened in Briggs, right?"

Maka refused to squirm. "Not really."

"I saw you guys get off the car last night. He's injured. Bad." Black☆Star frowned, "I'm not stupid, Maka."

"That's debatable."

"Would you just answer, goddammit!"

She sighed again, injecting just the right amount of frustration into her voice, "Nothing special, Black☆Star. It's just that we had a little mishap and… Soul ended up injured because he was protecting me."

It wasn't a lie, but wasn't the entire story either. It would do, though; anyone who knew Maka Albarn would know how repulsed she was to receive any help from the male half of society. It might've been the only reason why Black☆Star bought her half-truth and didn't question her further, though he still looked a little doubtful. Well, she was an amazing actress when she wanted to be.

"We're both okay, Black Star. I promise."

Promising a complete lie. How uncharacteristic of her.

* * *

The drive to Gallows Hill was unnervingly silent, making Liz's discomfort rise the closer they got to Albarn residence.

Everyone was quiet after hearing Kilik's report on Maka's Briggs debacle. Well, everyone except Patty, who was fogging the car's window and scribbling shapes on it while humming a children's song. Liz was practically vibrating with worry as she pulled the car into Maka's yard. Sometimes she envied her sister's ability to stay cheerful and positive at all times.

Kilik had said that Evans had mentioned something about immortals; a ridiculous concept to even think about. Except that she was Kid Morton's most trusted person, and he had told her that he witnessed his father's assassin walking away after being shot through the head, something Kid himself wasn't sure was memory or hallucination.

Liz suppressed a shudder. Fuck. She hated these supernatural things the most.

Harv and Ford quickly stepped out of the backseat, followed by a cheerful Patty, but Kid stayed still. Liz stole a glance at her Colonel. He had his usual calm façade in place, but she was familiar enough with him to notice his tense jaw and his rigid knuckles.

"Sir?"

Her voice seemed to snap him out of whatever he'd been thinking. "Let's go, Lieutenant."

Pursing her lips, Liz followed him out of the car. A loud growl of a motorcycle announced Kilik's arrival. (Liz gave Kilik's ride a dark look. She had secretly admired the thing, but for heaven's sake Kid wouldn't let her have one.)

They were greeted by the grumpy Ishvalan boy. Liz clicked her tongue at the sight of him. She still didn't like the rude man, a feeling that was clearly mutual, given the way Evans glared at her team like they had killed him in another life. Liz certainly wouldn't admit that his heroic act of protecting Maka and even getting gravely injured in the process had impressed her.

"Oooooh, so you're Soul?! Finally, I get to see Maka's hubby!" chirped Patty. Evans raised a brow, clearly confused with the word. Dumb guy. "You're right, Sissy, he looks mean!" she giggled, poking the boy's arm, which he answered with a swat.

"Where's Maka?" Kid said, ignoring Patty's snickers.

"Book nest," Evans grumbled, jerking his head upstairs. Kid nodded, gesturing to his team to follow him. Liz was last, looking over her shoulder to see the Ishvalan boy retreating further into the house instead of following them.

That was unusual. Whenever she met him, he had always been glued to Maka's hip.

Scoffing, she ignored the guy to follow her colonel.

* * *

Oscar was a little surprised to see it was Evans who opened the door.

It had only been two days since he had last seen the Ishvalan man, and he couldn't walk without being supported by Kilik then. Now he was standing in front of them, fully healed. Well, not fully, Oscar guessed; he still subtly favored his right foot and moved his torso cautiously when the younger Thompson poked his arm, and his bandages were slightly visible under his shirt's collar. So it was either Evans had an outrageous tolerance for pain or that underground doctor's words about his impossible healing rate were really true.

The latter was more likely, considering Evans was connected to at least four life-support machines the first time Oscar and Miss Kim left him in the doctor's care, but was already healed enough to go back to Gallows Hill a week after. Still, it was a little unnerving to see the man who had been half-dead ten days ago standing so casually as if he only had a bruised rib.

"Seems like what the Doctor told us was true, eh, Ford?" Kilik leaned over to whisper to him as they climbed the stairs to the second floor.

"Most likely," Oscar replied. "You don't usually see a man come back to life after being stabbed through the chest in just ten days."

"It's both creepy and cool, though," Kilik remarked.

"There's also the possibility that the doctor used a philosopher's stone or something," Harvar jumped in.

"Nah, I already checked," Kilik disagreed. "The doctor's not an alchemist. He's Jackie's old acquaintance, she's 100% sure of that. Even if he was, why would he waste a precious fifth element like that on a stranger?"

Neither of them replied that statement, because they had arrived and Colonel Morton was opening the library door. They found Albarn reading a book, or trying to read. Oscar noticed that the Ishvalan man hadn't followed them to the library. Figured. He hadn't seen Albarn and Evans exchange words since he had found them among the rubble.

"Kid!" Albarn hastily closed her book, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

"Maka." Colonel took a seat across her, and his team positioned themselves quietly around them. "How are you?"

"…Fine," she smiled. Oscar almost scoffed at her pathetic attempt at lying.

"We all know you're not, Maka," Colonel sighed. "How are you feeling, really?"

"Why do you ask, then?" she snapped. "Forget about me, you're here for the full report, right?"

Colonel Morton grimaced, but he nodded anyway. That was their main reason for visiting her. Albarn had refused to give the details about the incident in Baschool, saying that she would explain when they got back, and Evans couldn't provide any decent reports due to his hostility towards the blue uniform and his terrible communication skills.

Albarn began to speak about how they tracked the hidden lab to the ghost town, how they found a nasty tunnel, how they arrived at the odd dance hall, and lastly how they were attacked by two immortals.

Something was bugging Oscar, though. She wasn't telling the whole story; like what she had done when she first met Evans. The whole team was gobsmacked when they found out Evans could turn his body into metal blades (though it was rather interesting to see the elder Thompson almost choking their colonel to death for keeping it from them). Could it be that she was hiding something about Evans again?

"Did the immortals use blades or something?" Oscar fished, remembering many wide cuts and clean slices he found among the rubble, "Or was it Evans's doing?"

"It's… Soul's," Albarn answered a second too long.

"Huh, nice blade he has, to be able to cut through concrete that cleanly."

Colonel finally caught his game, frowning to Albarn, demanding, "Maka…!"

Albarn sent Oscar a dark look, which he received with a smug grin. "I told you, it's Soul's! It's just that he had… a different shape."

"Such as?" Kilik urged, "He had implied that sort of thing, but he wouldn't tell me what!"

"And you didn't tell us why?" Liz snapped.

Kilik offered a sheepish chuckle. "I just remembered?"

"You—"

"Liz," Colonel Morton interrupted. Liz wanted to protest, but stopped, pouting to the colonel instead. "Maka, continue."

Albarn shifted in her seat, a nervous move that was so unlike the Grigori Alchemist. One would even say that she was _squirming_.

"I… accidentally touched him mid-transmutation," she confessed.

"What? Were you both okay? Did a rebound happen or—" Colonel frantically searched her body for abnormalities. Kilik did the same, his eyes scanning her for any unwanted alchemical texture.

Colonel and Kilik's worries were understandable. Even if he wasn't an alchemist, Oscar knew enough about alchemical theory to guess what would happen when a transmutation went wrong, especially when it involved humans. Transmuting living beings was a lot riskier and dangerous than with inanimate objects, because their bodies contained at least 26 different chemical elements in various amounts. Many alchemists ended up with horrible rebounds just for trying to transmute animals.

"We're both okay!" Albarn hastily replied. She added after squirming a little more, "Well, I _was_. Soul was… Soul turned into a scythe."

"A _what_?!" It was Liz who squawked.

"Like the farming tool?" her younger sister chimed in curiously, as if not affected by everyone's slack-jawed expressions in the slightest.

But it was Patricia's light comment that made Albarn chuckle and continue her ridiculous story. "Yes, Patty, like the farming tool. It was so big and heavy too."

"Wait, Maka! You're saying that Evans, _a human_ , can transform into _a scythe?! A completely inanimate object?!_ " Colonel finally found his voice.

"I have told you that he's a human weapon, right?"

"Yeah, that idea is still ridiculous and impossible, but at least he only transformed _partially_!" Colonel continued his protests, snatching Oscar's own words. "At least he maintained his brain and internal organs!"

"I don't know, Kid!" Albarn sighed, "And looks like Soul doesn't, either. He was just as shocked as me when it happened."

"I knew that guy was weird and creepy, but not to this extent," Liz muttered, bringing her hand to cover her eyes.

"Yeah, tell me about it…" Albarn scoffed, glancing away from them.

Everyone was quiet, didn't know what to say after hearing the ridiculous information. Even Oscar couldn't say anything to make all of these less absurd. Hundreds of alchemy theories he'd read were a waste. What even was logic?

"What's that? It's pretty!" Patricia distracted everyone by poking a small box on Albarn's desk. A music box?

"Oh," Albarn winced, as if just realizing the box's presence, or more likely, had been intentionally ignoring its existence the whole time. "I found this inside the piano. I… haven't tried examining it," Albarn said, raising a small intricate box for everyone to see.

Oscar was surprised to hear this. Well, who wouldn't be? Maka Albarn keeping herself from tearing a new alchemical finding apart to study it to death? Unheard of.

"Why?" he inquired. "It's a multiple-coded record hidden in the middle of military ground! No doubt it's an important finding. Very unlike you, Albarn."

"A lot has happened, Ford. Forgive me if my mind is still too busy processing everything!"

"Oh, please!" Oscar rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "We all know you're just drowning your cowardly ass in pathetic self-pity."

"What did you just say?!" Albarn's voice raised, accompanied by the Thompsons' hisses. Oscar considered himself a good man and often meant well, but he wasn't considerate enough to stop his mouth from spewing insensitive words, apparently, especially not when he had had enough of someone's shit. An inevitable effect of being paired with Harvar, no doubt.

"Let me say it again; you're a pitiful coward," he continued without hesitation, not letting her snap a comeback, "You're too afraid to admit that it was your mother who forged Evans into a human weapon."

Albarn's jaw drop was so satisfying to watch.

"What? You think I wasn't going to realize it?" Oscar scoffed. "I may not be an alchemist, but I'm not an idiot, _Miss Grigori_."

She flinched.

"We all know he has the weird ability to transmute his body into steel. We also know Mrs. Albarn was a genius in biological alchemy. Evans admitted that he has a history with Mrs. Albarn, and his transmutation produces green light, a trait that was unique only to your mother and you. Combine that with the things you just told us and your current mopey state, it's ridiculously clear."

Even Maka Albarn couldn't say anything when presented with the truth she had worked so hard to deny.

"Now you're lashing out all your frustration onto him. Pitiful."

"What do you know?!" She chose to lash out. "You'll never know the betrayal I felt! You don't carry her legacy! Hell, you're not even an alchemist!"

Oh. So she wanted to go there, huh?

It was unspoken knowledge that Oscar was more than a little sore at his lack of alchemical gifts; a feeling that always worsened each time he was reminded of it. How fiendish of God to only give him the brain and passion but not the gift.

"Well, yeah, obviously," Oscar bit back, his tone a little sharper. Albarn flinched again, maybe realizing her insensitive words a second too late. "But I know I wouldn't mope around pitying myself if I found a way to hold the deeper truth right in my hands!"

"Even if his words were harsh, Ford's right, Maka," the Colonel supported his statement, ignoring Liz's death glare. "We aren't seeing the whole picture here. And you have a way to expand our vision, even a little. I have told you to keep believing in your mother, right? We still don't know how, when, or why she did this. But Maka, you know her. You have been sensing her soul for years, right? And you had believed that she was a good person for all this time, so you have to keep believing. You have to be stronger in order to search for the bigger truth."

Well, he'd said the same thing, basically, only that Colonel Morton had the gentlest mouth among them. Albarn nodded reluctantly.

"Great, now about Evans's ability, I think we have to discuss it a little further."

* * *

Soul scowled at a framed photo in his hands, inspecting a much younger Maka getting crushed into little Black Star's chest, Tsubaki laughing beside them.

No, he was not scowling because he didn't like the photo. Soul exhaled, flipping the frame to find _'Maka, Black☆_ _Star and Tsu'_ scrawled in red ink on the back. It was Maka's happy memory. There was no way he didn't like it.

No, it was the guests inside Maka's library.

When Kilik said he would go straight to Gallows Hill after reporting back to Eastern HQ, Soul didn't expect that he would take his entire team with him, as in, the Reaper Colonel's team.

With the way Maka was avoiding him, he chose to ignore his need to be on her side. That didn't mean he was okay with them going in and out as they pleased, however. Even if Maka deemed them trustworthy and he trusted her judgement, Soul was still reluctant to get closer.

Nothing personal, just an old bias, of course. Only old bias that had morphed into strong animosity.

"Evans."

He turned to find the Reaper Colonel and his entire team staring at him with serious expressions, even the younger Thompson sister. He was surprised to see Maka trailing behind them, but he showed nothing except for the faint widening of his eyes.

"Maka had told us about your… interesting full-body transformation," the colonel started. Soul's tongue clicked without him knowing. Why did she tell them about that?

"So?"

"I got the impression that you were not aware of this ability yourself," the colonel continued, making Soul's scowl deeper. "I was wondering if perhaps we could try to trigger it as well."

The fuck?!

"No fucking way."

"We have to get to the bottom of this, if you're intending to continue being Maka's… travel companion." The colonel's eyes were pinned on him, but Soul's own was on Maka. She was flinching when addressed, visibly uncomfortable. "We have to know exactly what this ability of yours is. What can trigger it, how it works. For your own safety, partly. And Maka's. It will be dangerous if it turns out that you're gonna change into a lump of metal every time you're touched by a transmutation circle."

"Huh?!" Soul's attention snapped back to the Reaper Colonel. Did this guy just— "Are you implying that I could be a hindrance for her?! That I'll become _useless_ every time I'm touched by an alchemist?!"

"If you don't agree, then show us," the colonel retorted flatly. "We have three different alchemists with different circles here."

Soul held back from gritting his teeth. As much as he loathed being touched by military soldiers, the colonel was right. They had to get to the bottom of this. It would be ridiculous if Maka was in a pinch and he couldn't do anything because he was turned into inanimate steel. He didn't even know what he'd do if he hadn't been in Maka's hands at that time. He _was_ useless without a wielder.

Besides, them doing this could be a sign that Maka still wanted him around. Somehow.

"…Alright."

The Reaper Colonel nodded, turning to Maka. "Then… Maka—?"

"We already know that my circle works."

Ah. No hesitation in the slightest. It would be a lie if he said his heart wasn't aching at her instant rejection.

 _'_ _She's that disgusted, huh?'_

Oh, like he needed the Demon's cheerful comments right now. Luckily for him, Kilik decided to break his rapidly darkening thoughts by offering his hand, smile sincere and uplifting. "Then maybe I can go first?"

Soul's eyes left Maka reluctantly, taking the major's left hand. Electricity sparked as Kilik's thunder circle activated, but nothing happened. Soul was still standing in his spot, fully human.

"Huh?" Kilik tilted his head. "Maybe both?" He raised his other automail. Soul rolled his eyes, taking it.

The same process happened, only that a spark of fire now accompanied the electricity. Still nothing.

"Guess I can't, then," Kilik hummed thoughtfully, taking his steel arms back and scrutinizing the circles on them curiously.

"Then it's my turn." Reaper Colonel stepped forward, all business. Soul felt his Demon trembling slightly, whether it was from fear or excitement he didn't really know. Must be because of the guy's alchemy. It affected souls, not only physical matter, after all. He gave the colonel a questioning look when he offered both his hands. Ah, yes. This guy had a weird thing with symmetry and balance. "Both hands, please."

Soul complied quickly, refraining from his instinct to pull himself away. While Maka's alchemy felt like a flowing river, Kilik's was like a lightning bolt. But the Reaper's alchemy felt… weird. Almost unpleasant. It was rigid, dark, and chilling, like goosebumps. Soul was awfully aware that a slightly different arrangement of that transmutation could unbind his soul from his body.

But like what had happened with Kilik, Soul was still standing there in his normal human form. Or as normal as his freaky body could be.

The colonel stepped back with the same calculating expression Kilik had. "What do you think, Kilik?"

"Yeah, I think it's like… 75% safe to assume he's not going to turn into a butter knife whenever he's touched by an alchemy circle," Kilik replied, smirking at Soul's scowl.

"I wonder if only alkahestry can trigger it?" Kid muttered to himself.

"Possibly," the bald one, Forg or Fred, Soul wasn't sure, agreed. "Won't be weird if it's true. The one who made him was an alkahestrist, after all."

Fuck. They knew about that too?

The soldiers discussed the topic further, but Soul's mind was wandering to the only person in the room who mattered. She was sitting beside the younger Thompson, draped in her friend's arms. If Soul hadn't been staring at her so intently, he wouldn't have noticed her occasional glances and the slight tremble of her lips, as if she was trying so hard but failing to not give him any attention.

It was depressing to think that she still ignored him even when sensing his soul's silent pleas.

Was she really afraid of him?

How could he fix this?

Normally, if she was anyone else, he wouldn't give a single damn. If other people were afraid of him, he would just walk away. He would just let them go. But she was Maka. He refused to walk away. He absolutely refused to let her go. Hell, he wasn't sure if he was physically capable of doing that. At least not before he explained himself first. Not before they had a proper talk and sorted things out.

He just wanted to see her smile at him again.

"Kilik, I'm stationing you here. At least until we can get more intel on our new enemies." Reaper Colonel's command startled Soul out of his inner agony. "There's still the problem with the immortals' behavior. We don't really know if they were really planning to take Maka away, and if they did, we don't know when or where they're going to attack next."

Maka protested right away, "Kid, I don't need to be protected!"

As much as he preferred Maka to be safer, Soul couldn't help but agree. Not because he had noble belief like her being a strong woman who didn't need no man or anything like that, but because the selfish and greedy part of him hated to let others take _his_ place.

He was chosen by her mother to protect her. It was his job. _His._

_'As if she would allow you to protect her right now.'_

What wouldn't he give to stab his own Demon.

 _'D_ _on't be mad because I speak the truth, boy.'_

"Maka, they can't die," Reaper Colonel chided. "There's no way you'll survive a fight with two of them without a scratch. There's no telling if they were moving independently or under another's command. For all we know, they could be a part of a larger group full of immortals. I can't leave you here without back-up!"

"I'm here too, y'know?" Soul made himself known, his voice coming out a lot harsher than he had intended. Maka looked like she wanted to yell at him for his unnecessary interjection, but she stopped herself and threw her gaze away, much to Soul's dismay. He'd rather be yelled at than be ignored.

"You're injured, Evans," the colonel dictated, as if the sentence could rest his case. Bastard.

"Th-there's still the Barrett—"

"They're civilians, Maka," Reaper interrupted Maka. "No matter how capable the entire Barrett family is; I can't ask civilians to protect my subordinate. And Maka… Black☆Star does have his own family to protect now," he added, voice softening near the end.

Maka opened her mouth to argue further, but closed it again, begrudgingly agreeing.

If there was something Soul had learnt after being with her for months, it was that, deep down, Maka Albarn was terribly kind. She would never wish for other people to neglect their own life and responsibilities just for her own benefit. She refused to endanger others just to feel a little safer. Not even her own family. Not even _him_.

Was there a way to tell her that he didn't mind doing just that? Well, without admitting that he was already doing it in the first place.

Soul was still standing in his spot as the Reaper Colonel herded his team back to Eastern HQ. He just watched in silence as the Gunslinger Sisters hugged Maka goodbye. He stared morosely as she shut the front door and cantered past the living room to lock herself inside her library again. He still glared at the empty corridor where she had vanished into, until a clink sound was heard as an automail arm draped around his shoulder.

"What's with that scary face?" Soul turned to find Kilik giving him a playful smirk.

He swatted the steel arm away. "Not your business."

Kilik let out an exaggerated sigh. "If it's Maka you're worrying about, no, she's not mad at you or anything. Just give her time."

Soul unconsciously stepped back, perplexed. "Wh—how did—?"

"It's clear for every human and their dogs that you think it's your fault she's been upset and avoiding you. You look like she's gonna kick you out of the house at any given moment."

Soul went still. Was he that obvious?

"Maybe I wasn't her childhood friend like Kid or Black☆Star, but I do know her, Evans. This is what she does when she's upset. If she's avoiding you, then you're not the source of her anger. Frustration and confusion, maybe, but not anger. You'd be back in Death City by now if she was really mad at you."

That would be comforting if Soul's concern had been about her anger. Actually, he could endure her anger just fine, even her wrath, but it was her fear that terrified him the most. The thought of her flinching away from his touch and shutting him out because of fear was so much worse.

"Aw, cheer up, Evans!" Kilik punched his shoulder lightly, minding his still tender ribs. "You almost rival Harv with that kind of frown!"

Soul growled, intending to ignore the major and go back to his room, but Kilik quickly caught him before he could escape, dragging him to the front yard. "I know just the thing to distract your moping ass. I'll introduce you to my _baby_!"

* * *

Soul spent his days reading music books and being dragged around by Kilik to worship his motorcycle. It was a decent distraction, but not good enough to make him forget his current predicament.

It was almost three weeks since the Briggs debacle, and Maka hadn't spoken to him even once.

Kilik had advised to give her time, but until when did he propose he waited?

He had tried his best to approach her, but his Demon kindly reminded him that she was _afraid_ of him.

She hadn't kicked him out of her house yet, yeah, and she was still dealing with whatever it was that had upset her, sure, but nobody said she wouldn't throw him out in the end. Something told him that he would leave without protest if Maka really wanted him to, but Soul vehemently dismissed the thought. Instead of thinking when or why she would evict him, he would do his best to keep that from happening. If she was afraid of him, he would work his hardest to change that. He would earn her trust again.

Three weeks without talking to her brought things into perspective.

He was happy. Being with her made him happy. It was like being taken by Mrs. Kamiko to see the stars all over again. It made him forget his terrible past and the traumatizing experiments. Only that with Maka, he didn't have to run away and look over his shoulder all the time. She made him walk beside her and look forward.

Even with Mrs. Kamiko, he could still find the will to leave, if he'd really wanted. But it was different with Maka. He wouldn't leave. He _couldn't_ leave. He had forgotten how to live by himself. He had forgotten how he could endure his boring days in Death City. Just in three short months, she had taken away his ability to be alone.

He lamented the fact that there was no big brother he could blab his problems to. Huh. Wes would be surprised to learn that his socially retarded brother had become this attached to another human being.

Oh, fuck. As if missing a single person wasn't enough already.

Blair padded to him with a worried meow and sat on his lap, glancing at the closed library door. Soul set his book down, following the cat's line of vision. Maka hadn't come out of that book nest for two whole days. It was getting frustrating.

He missed her.

Had she even had a decent meal? No, he didn't think so. There were only books in that room.

"Do you think I should bring her something?" he asked the cat. God, had he been desperate enough for a decent conversation that he started talking to a cat? Maka must have rubbed off on him.

Blair answered him, regardless, and her soft meow solidified his idea to bring Maka something to eat. A quick inspection through Maka's kitchen yielded no ingredients to make a meal. Must have been Kilik, the bastard; his stomach was like a black hole. Soul grumbled, he had no option other than to go next door.

The Barrett house was usually empty during these hours. Black Star and his dad would be in the shop and Myra would still be working in the little town's only hospital. That would mean he wouldn't have to socialize that much, thank god. Not that he didn't like them, but faking a smile and exchanging pleasantries when he wasn't in a good mood was tiring. Sid and Myra were the type of people who always put their best smiles on, the kind of smile that would make Soul feel so guilty if he didn't respond in kind. Black Star... well, Black Star wore a mask around him.

Luckily, his deduction proved true when he entered through the back door. There was only Tsubaki, who was silently chopping carrots.

"Tsubaki?"

The Xingese woman turned at the sound of her name, surprised. "Oh, Soul! How can I help you?" She paused her chopping. Tsubaki was the only one in the Barrett family who Soul felt no need to fake a smile for. Her kind nature made her reluctant to pry into others' business, respectful of their privacy, even though she was so perceptive about the feelings of others, almost as if she had the same perception ability as Maka's.

Seeing the chopped vegetables and a loaf of bread on the table made Soul change his initial goal slightly. "Uhhh… could you teach me how to make sandwiches?"

Tsubaki would just give him her own cooking if he asked for food, but he wanted to do more. His first thought was sandwiches. That thing looked easy enough to whip up and definitely delicious enough.

Unfortunately, he wasn't that familiar with those fancy seasonings and sauces. He had survived for years living by himself, yes, but that didn't mean he was an expert cook. The best he could do was to throw meat into a fire or hang it above the smoke.

"Sure!" Tsubaki answered with a smile, leaving her carrots to stir the stew on the stove. "It's very simple. But if you're hungry, there's a leftover cinnamon roll from this morning."

He scratched the back of his head and laughed nervously. "Ah, actually, it's for Maka."

Tsubaki's hands stopped for a few seconds, her expression lightening in understanding. "Oh! For Maka-chan?"

"Yep," Soul cleared his throat. "She didn't even come out of that book nest for food, so I'm—I think I'll make her something…"

The woman actually giggled, making him blush. He didn't even know why he was so embarrassed by the thought of making Maka food. He had done it the first night he met her, for god's sake.

"I was just thinking of bringing her something too, but okay, you can take the job." Still giggling, Tsubaki left the stove to lift a pan full of potatoes.

Feeling his ears warming, he took the weight from the pregnant woman. "I'll help."

"Aah, but Soul, you're still injured!"

"I'm all healed now," he hissed, placing the pan on the counter.

But Tsubaki scolded him. "It's not even two weeks since you've been back from North Province, Soul. There's no way you're already healed."

"I'm fine." Soul rolled his eyes. Three weeks were enough for a human to heal that kind of injury.

Right?

Apparently not, if Tsubaki's wondering eyes were any indication. No one ever made a comment on his healing rate. Was his body that weird?

Well, yeah. It was.

"Could it be…?" Tsubaki tilted her head to stare at his chest, her brows furrowed, but she shook her head and put her smile back on. "Just wait until I put the pie in the oven, then we could leave it to make the sandwich. I think we still have some turkey left. Maka-chan loves turkey sandwiches!"

Soul nodded, helping the woman despite her protests. He was peeling the potatoes when a thought crossed his mind.

"Tsubaki…?"

The Xingese woman hummed slightly, her hands skillfully flattening the pie dough.

"Why do you always call Maka like that?"

"Huh? Like what?"

"Maka… chan?" Soul's climbing tone turned it into a question.

"It's a term of endearment in eastern Xing," she began, laughing softly. "You see, Xing is an incredibly large imperium with over 50 different clans. Each of those clans has their own language and customs. My family and Maka-chan's mother were from the same clan. It's located in a secluded valley in north east Xing. Even among other clans, our local language and customs differ greatly from common Xingese," Tsubaki was babbling with obvious excitement. Her tone was much gentler than Maka's, but she certainly was as passionate about Xing customs as Maka was about alchemy. "…and because of that, we—oh, I'm sorry I talked too much!" she caught herself, her cheeks tinting pink. Soul waved her apologies off with a little smile.

He thought her explanation was done; he wasn't expecting her to suddenly stop her work and smile sadly. And he especially wasn't expecting her following words, "It was what Mrs. Kamiko used to call her."

Ah. So it was like that.

"I think the first time she openly cried was when I called her that name."

Tsubaki really was a kind woman.

"It was a week after Mrs. Kamiko's death. I just… couldn't bear to see her like that. If I didn't do that, I felt like Maka-chan was gonna crumble. She was so lifeless, not responding to any of us. She didn't even shed a tear at the funeral. As if her world stopped after hearing about her mother's death."

Ah. Grief sometimes froze people; a familiar story. Only that his doll-like state had lasted much longer. There was no one to snap you back to life if you mourned in Death City.

"You noticed that we often speak to each other in Xingese, right?" Soul nodded. Tsubaki resumed flattening the pie dough, her voice cracking a bit. "I… I wanted her to think that her memories with her mother were real; that Mrs. Kamiko's love was—is—still with her even if she isn't here anymore. I wanted her to know that she still had us, that she was still loved."

He understood. There was a reason why he used 'Soul' instead of his full name.

"You haven't meet Mr. Spirit yet, right?" Soul cut off his darkening thoughts in time to nod. The old man was still an unknown to him; Maka's face when she talked about her father made his brow furrow. Tsubaki chuckled wryly. "My other reason is because… well, Mr. Spirit took out his grief by drowning himself in other women's arms, intending to forget about his wife, completely—but not intentionally—ignoring his daughter."

Soul's anger slowly rose the more he processed Tsubaki's words. Intentionally or not, how could a parent— _family_ —forget about their child in times like that? He was in no position to judge, having no parents to compare to, but he knew _Wes_ would never do that to him, and he would never do that to Wes. They would never ignore family.

"Thanks… for telling me, Tsubaki…" Soul whispered under his breath.

"Thank you for listening too, Soul." Tsubaki smiled again, this time more genuine and warm. "I had never told anyone about this except my husband."

Soul returned the smile, finally cracking something other than that toothache grin. Tsubaki put her finished pie into the oven and started to pull out the ingredients to make his sandwiches. Soul listened diligently, but his brain was still thinking about her words.

Should he start calling her 'Maka-chan' too?

Nah, with the current tension between them, he was sure she would kill him if he ever attempted to do that.

* * *

Inside Major General Albarn's office, Major Azusa Yumi was comparing two files.

"No doubt about it, Sir," Azusa said to her superior, fixing her glasses. "It was done by the same person who orchestrated the incident ten years ago. Possibly even the same as the one behind the coup against the late Führer Morton."

Major General Albarn whispered at the paper, eyes glinting with something akin to madness, "After ten long years. I can finally avenge you, Kamiko..."

Azusa shuddered at her superior's almost feral expression. The general was always fooling around and donned an idiotic mask, hiding his vengeful grief behind his womanizer persona. She was one of very few people who had the privilege to witness this side of the general.

Was it really a privilege?

"By the way, how is Maka doing?" Azusa said with the most casual voice she could muster, watching the general's expression slip into a cheerful smile at the mention of his daughter. "Sergeant Thompson mentioned that Maka discovered a new finding in Briggs."

"Oh, really? Well, I have to congratulate her, then! Maybe with a little father-daughter date? We haven't done that in the longest time!" General Albarn beamed. Inwardly, Azusa rolled her eyes. How could he forget the disaster their last 'date' had turned into?

"But… Briggs? Isn't that a bit unusual?" She raised a brow. She didn't remember the first Grigori Alchemist ever being stationed there.

"You're right," the general mirrored her wonder. "Well, I guess Kristopher knows something."

* * *

"Crap, I have to replace the inner tube."

Soul watched Kilik grumble to his motorcycle. Out of sheer boredom, Kilik had planned to teach Soul drive, and Soul had accepted, wishing to distract himself from a certain green-eyed girl. Unfortunately, the bike refused to cooperate, as showcased by this flat tire.

Kilik grinned sheepishly. "Soul, can you go to Black☆Star's workshop and borrow some tools? I'll ask Sid for a spare tube."

Huffing, Soul turned to the Barrett automail shop, telling himself it was only a simple task. He just had to ask for the tools and get back, no need for further conversation.

The automail engineer was tinkering with a prosthetic leg, occasionally lifting his muscle shirt to wipe his sweat.

"Hey, uh—Black Star," Soul cleared his throat to get the older man's attention. "Can I borrow some tools for replacing a bike's tire?"

As usual, without Maka's presence, Black Star made no sign of wanting to socialize, only nodding faintly and gesturing to a shelf before going back to his work. Soul shrugged. He didn't hate the silent treatment. If anything, he preferred it. But it didn't stop him from wondering why. From what Soul had seen, Black Star never kept such distance from any others. On the contrary, the man loved attention.

Had he unknowingly crossed the engineer or something?

Soul reached for the box Black Star had gestured to. As he heaved the box to a more comfortable position, its shiny surface reflected the automail engineer behind him.

It was then he caught sight of a star tattoo on the engineer's right shoulder.

Oh.

Soul had never seen him without sleeves, or rather, Black Star had never shown his bare arms. And Soul understood why.

Behind a certain photograph of Maka and her childhood friends, were their names written in red ink. And there was a star symbol in the guy's name.

'Black☆Star' was not just a nickname. It was his _full name_.

Well, shit.

"You're Star Clan."

Black☆Star turned at him in surprise, unintentionally giving him his full attention for the first time. Oh, shit. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

There was no soul in Amestris who didn't know about Star Clan; the clan that had a longer killing record in the Ishval War than the entire State Alchemist Department, all because they didn't really have a preference in which side they were killing. At first, they had been hired by a group of Ishvalans to fight the military, which they did splendidly, but they didn't stop at that. Cornered Amestrians started to hire them as well, and they responded in kind. Too kind. The assassin clan gutted hundreds—maybe thousands—of humans like fish, tainting the holy land of Ishvala with the blood of His children. If the Führer hadn't ordered the State Alchemists to wipe out the entire clan, the bloodshed would surely have spread throughout the entire East Province. Maybe further.

The Star Child furrowed his brows as his jaw clenched, challenging Soul. "Yeah. Got a problem with that?"

Soul warily stared at him, his voice dropping without him knowing. "No."

Black☆Star made a disbelieving _'tchah!'_

His face contorted into a sadistic smirk as he laughed with a terrifying mix of disgust and exasperation. "Just fucking say it! Just admit that my tattoo makes you _disgusted_! You want to kill me in the cruelest way imaginable as payment for your fucking family's lives, I'm sure!"

Soul didn't react to the outburst, just silently watched him spit all the venom out of his system.

"Yeah, I'm a Star Child! I'm a direct descendant of the strongest assassin clan that ever existed!" Black☆Star bellowed with sarcasm, but his tone transformed into anger as his volume rose. "You think I'm fucking proud to have blood ties with those lunatics?! There's no one more _disgusted_ than me at what they were doing! There's nothing I want more than to cut the ties I have with them!"

Soul stayed silent.

"But there's no way you're gonna fucking believe it, huh?!" Black☆Star continued to laugh maniacally. "Of course you wouldn't! There's no fucking way I can deny the fact that I'm just a part of a disgusting, blood-bathing clan! Ha! I even got the gift as well! The gift to be an assassin! To kill! I'm a Star Child by birth! By blood! A filthy murderer!"

"I never said that you're a murderer, Black☆Star."

His calm words froze Black☆Star completely. They stared at each other in silence, the tense atmosphere thickening, red eyes calm while green were full of anger. Finally, Black☆Star's expression dulled, morphing into a grimace. The anger in his eyes transformed into loathing. Soul was perceptive enough to know that those emotions were not aimed at him.

"Sorry, I just…" Black☆Star heaved out a breath, throwing away automail parts he had been death-gripping the entire time. "You're an Ishvalan."

"I am." Soul nodded, still with a straight face. "But I know you're not a bad guy."

The older man bulged his eyes at him in shock. "I'm a child of assassins, Evans. The assassins who massacred your tribe! For all I know, my parents might be the one who killed _yours_!"

"Perhaps. But who cares, anyway? They're not the one I'm facing right now."

Black☆Star threw him a skeptical look, unconsciously whispering, " _Are you an idiot…?_ "

Soul snorted, "Maybe."

But Soul knew his judgement was right. He didn't need Maka's weird perception ability to tell that Black☆Star was a good guy. A _cool_ guy, even.

If Black☆Star was disgusted with his clan and really wanted to cut ties with them, he would adopt a new name and erase that tattoo off his arm. He would forge a new identity, burying his past. He would live in peace as Sid and Myranda Barrett's adoptive son without worrying about the hate he would receive whenever he introduced himself, or the condescending stares people threw him whenever he revealed his tattoo.

But here he was, still responding to that name and working his tattooed arm off for new automails to help people regain their former lives back. He wasn't only acknowledging his ancestry with his head held high, but also working so hard to prove that a Star Child could _help_ instead of harm.

That was why he was a _cool_ guy.

Mrs. Kamiko was right. The shape really doesn't matter. The only thing that's important is the soul.

"So, I got some spare time while Kilik replaces his tire. Maka said you're good in hand-to-hand combat?" Soul offered a lopsided smile, Black☆Star gaped slightly for a few seconds before returning the smirk.

"The bestest."

* * *

_What was with this guy?_

Black☆Star was bewildered. The guy who was currently sparring with him actually made him fight _seriously_.

He partly regretted his decision to keep his distance from Soul. Because of his prejudice (no, it was certainly not fear of the past he was feeling), he neglected his chance to properly observe the Ishvalan guy. He should know better than to let his blood blind him, seriously; Maka had actually _brought_ Soul home, there was certainly something about him.

Now he knew there was really something special with the guy.

Being acquainted with many high-ranking soldiers meant he was familiar with their fighting style. The way Soul moved… it was certainly like a soldier. And it wasn't like an ordinary soldier like Harvar or even Big Sis Marie either, but like an elite agent who had been trained for solo missions; like his adoptive dad.

Black☆Star bit back his sneer as Soul nearly grazed his cheek. He blocked the Ishvalan man's kick before motioning for them to stop.

"Think this is enough. You're still injured, right?" Black☆Star made a quick excuse. "Maka would be mad."

Soul snorted, "She wouldn't care."

Black☆Star frowned. "You uncooked macaroni, she'll kill me if I worsen your injuries!"

Soul chuckled, but it didn't reach his eyes. Black☆Star raised a brow. Were they still fighting? He had been too busy in the past month, with six orders from Rush Valley. He hadn't checked on Maka again after their return from Briggs. It was unusual for Maka to be upset at Soul this long; the little alchemist was oddly attached to the Ishvalan man after all. Ah, fuck, he should be paying more attention.

After some more prompting, Soul dragged himself back to Maka's house. Black☆Star watched until Soul's back vanished behind the front door before darting towards Maka's back door. He changed his direction mid-sprint, catching Maka's figure on one of her library windows. With two quick leaps Black☆Star was already perching on the second floor balcony.

He jumped into the next window and yanked it open. He wasted no time storming over to the stunned girl.

"Who the fuck is he?!"

* * *

Blair was meowing again from the faraway table, tirelessly trying to get her owner's attention to the untouched plate of sandwiches beside her. Sadly, Maka preferred to find out if she really could photosynthesize.

Maka was staring outside the library window, at a certain Ishvalan boy who was sparring with her brother; the culprit behind the untouched sandwiches, also known as the source of her dilemma.

Despite her current poor treatment of him, Maka couldn't help but worry. There was no way Soul was already fully healed, supercharged healing or no. He shouldn't be out there doing a spar, let alone fighting against such a formidable opponent. Black☆Star wasn't known for holding back. Hell, even _she_ had never beat him.

Why was he sparring with Star anyway? She never got the impression that Soul liked her brother enough to initiate a conversation, never mind a friendly sparring.

At first Maka thought it was because Soul had miraculously deemed Black☆Star trustworthy enough to let himself relax, but then she remembered that it was physically impossible for any living being to simply ignore her brother.

Her reverie broke when the library window banged open, revealing an angry Black☆Star. Blair bolted to her feet and hissed at her brother, but Maka didn't get a chance to speak before Black☆Star stormed to her in long harsh strides.

"Who the fuck is he?"

Maka blinked in confusion. "Who's who?"

"Evans!" Black☆Star shouted. Crap. Maka prayed that his awfully loud voice wouldn't alert the boy in question. " _Who is he?!_ "

"What do you mean who? I've told you that he's an Ishvalan I met at—"

"Cut the shit, Maka. The way he moves, it's like an elite military agent. 'Cept he can't be one, so who is he?" Black☆Star interjected, glowering. "Certainly that guy ain't a normal boy-toy you pick up along the road."

"How many times do I have to tell you he's not my—ugh, fine!" Maka groaned in exasperation. "He's just had good training."

" _Maka_ —" her brother snarled, indicating he was not in a joking mood.

Maka shifted her eyes to the ground, mumbling begrudgingly, "He was trained to be a special soldier. Sort of."

She hated how well Black☆Star knew her, because he gave her a skeptical frown and folded his arms in front of his chest, clearly sensing that she still had so much to explain.

"This is part of why you've been avoiding him, right?" he coaxed with an uncharacteristically stern voice. Maka cursed inwardly. Of course he would know. "Start talking."

Refraining from sighing, Maka finally relented.

She didn't know when had she been herded to sit on a chair or when Black☆Star had perched on her desk. When she started talking, it poured out. She spoke about everything, every detail she remembered, knew, and had deduced about Soul and her mother, even things she had held back from Kid. It eventually digressed into her pent up emotions, about how lost she was, about how ashamed she felt, about how she couldn't look at Soul without being reminded of Mama's sin. And furthermore, about how frightened she was when Soul had almost died because he'd gone with her. About how he'd shielded her body from the collapsing building. About his disturbing cries.

Black☆Star was silent the entire time, only sucking a breath quietly and tensing his jaw in all the right times.

Ah, contrary to popular belief, he really _was_ a good listener.

She hated to find herself opening up to Black☆Star that easily.

"You don't look surprised."

Black☆Star shrugged, "Well, I am, it's just that it's something Aunt Kami would do."

Her chair screeched as she shot up, banging the table. "What?!"

"Well, not the dissecting children part," Black☆Star continued, not affected by her seething anger in the slightest. "I mean the part where she eventually saved Soul, and arranged for you guys to meet, and the fact that she hid this from all of us."

Oh.

She hated to admit that he was right.

After a long silence, Black☆Star exhaled, shifting his position away from her. "It wasn't his fault, Maka," he muttered in a soft voice other people wouldn't think he was capable of producing. "He didn't ask to be turned into a weapon. Like how I didn't ask to be born a Star Child."

Her heart did one guilty backflip.

"See him for who he is, Maka, not by a mistake he didn't have any control over." He patted her head once, smiling a little sourly, and jumped out of the window.

Black☆Star had actually given her advice. Maybe there was gonna be a blizzard that night.

Maka grimaced. She knew. She didn't need to be reminded by everyone. She knew. She understood, dammit. But having Black☆Star say that doubled the effects. Her brother's soft tone made her guilt triple in size.

Maka hid her face in her knees. Blair, who was uncharacteristically silent the entire time, walked over to her and curled her tail around her legs. Maka cracked an eye open, afraid that it was watery.

"What should I do, Blair?"

A soft meow answered her. Maka chuckled sourly, "I can't just walk up to him and say sorry."

Her eyes flew to the untouched sandwiches.

He really tried so hard. And she hated him for that.

She hated finding herself tucked in bed in the morning despite having passed out in her library. She hated finding warm meals on the library's corner that Tsubaki never said she brought.

She hated how he didn't force a conversation. She hated how he respected her personal space, both physically and mentally. She hated how he was giving her time.

Oh, who was she kidding?

She missed him.

But she couldn't face him. She just couldn't.

* * *

"Soul."

He whipped his head so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. He didn't mind, though, because a voice he had missed so much had just called his name.

Maka was approaching him with a sullen face. Soul's heartbeat was raising anxiously with each step she took. It was either their long-awaited make up time or her final words to banish him from her life.

They stood awkwardly for a long minute. Or hour. None of them knew what to say or do, only opening their mouths every other second and failing at producing any words. It was at times like these that Soul really wished for decent conversational skills.

But like every other time, it was her who took the first step.

"You should go."

Ah, it was the latter.

"Maka, I—"

"You should go."

Dammit. It was worse to hear it the second time.

"Why?"

"Being with me—it's just—it's dangerous…"

But she didn't even look into his eyes. She was frowning, her arms were brought to hug herself, and she was mindful of their distance. It was dangerous, she said. Yeah. Having a human weapon with unstable blood as a companion wasn't the safest situation. Especially a human weapon who could turn into a creepy lump of metal.

Was that a sardonic laugh he heard inside his head?

But no. He wouldn't go down without a fight. He couldn't.

"Do you mean that?"

She was determined to keep her head down. "Yeah."

"Tell me the reason."

"I just said it was dangerous."

Soul's jaw tensed, but he soldiered on, asking for that one final confirmation. "We both know that is not your real reason."

"I just… I…" Maka gritted her teeth. "I don't want you to be here."

"Why?"

She hissed. Her temper made itself known again. "I just can't look at you without being reminded of Mama's sin! Your presence upsets me! There, I said it! So would you please just go away?!"

Ah. A different reason than what he had thought. It was no less painful, unfortunately. And he didn't know the solution for it. If she'd been afraid of him, he could change that, maybe it would take time, but he could. But what could he do if it was his very existence that was upsetting her?

His face didn't betray his inner turmoil in the slightest. Half of him was protesting, screaming that he _had_ promised to protect her, vow to her mother or not. But the other half was accepting the defeat. There was nothing more important than her happiness. He would go if she really wanted that.

 _'_ _Sometimes, boy, I wonder if you're just a masochist.'_

"Look into my eyes, Maka," Soul heard himself speak with a calmness he didn't feel. "Say it. Do you want me to go?"

"Why did you always—" She stopped herself as she realized she was unintentionally lifting her eyes to meet his. Soul smiled despite himself. Even when there were tears threatening to pour from them, her eyes were mystifyingly beautiful.

Unknown to him, his hollow smile had broken Maka's final wall. Her lips trembled as she whispered, her voice thick, "Don't go."

He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "I don't plan to."

Her dam finally broke. "I'm sorry…" Her quiet sobs slowly transformed into a strangled cry. "I'm so sorry, Soul…"

"Why are you apologizing?"

"I've been so unfair to you…" She sucked a breath. "I'm so egoistic…"

She processed to pour all of her inner demons, about how ill her thoughts about him had been, about her own shame, about how she had been treating him.

He noted with perplexity, she never once mentioned his cold-blooded rampage, nor his freaky transmutation into a literal weapon, as if she didn't care the slightest bit about them.

"And then I just selfishly told you to leave… Just because I don't want to face my own shame and Mama's mistake, I just—I'm so sorry, Soul…"

If it wouldn't worsen this little chance he'd gained, he would laugh. All her concerns seemed so trivial compared to his own fear.

"Even when I think of you like that, after I've been accusing you cruel things for so long… You just went and got your chest impaled to protect me… Do you have any idea how I feel about that?"

"What?" he chuckled slightly. "Just because of that?"

"Just because—" Maka shot him a mix of anger and disbelief. "It's serious for me, Soul!"

"Ah, no, I didn't mean—I just…" Soul chuckled again, a little wry, but when he continued, his face was clearly relieved. "I've been so scared that—that you're… that I…" He fidgeted, "I was—I am… scared…"

"Scared of what?"

He dropped his head, his hand nervously going to the back of his neck. When he whispered, his voice was heavy and a little broken. "I thought you were afraid of me."

"Why would I—" she quickly interjected, but stopped herself as her eyes slightly widened in understanding. "Soul…"

"I am a monster, Maka," he choked. "I have wicked blood that constantly have to keep under control or everything will go haywire."

"You're not a monster, Soul. You're not a weapon…" Maka softly said, quoting words she had said forever ago. "You're a person… and a good one…"

She hesitantly placed a hand over him, squeezing slightly. To think that they'd been berating themselves over such trivial matters.

Rashville should have been a clue. They both sucked in the communication department, apparently.

He was really glad he hadn't just left without a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Hemochromatosis: an iron overload disorder. The symptoms might include fatigue, abdominal pain, irregular heart rhythms and the skin to take a bronze color. If not treated, it can damage many internal organs like liver, heart and pancreas.  [ return to text ]  
> 


	5. But A Library is Where to Find The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And you are worth it too, Soul."

_[The Black Blood Project, Kamiko Albarn, 1911, town of Aszmamem, Ishval]_

_The most successful experiments as of July 1911 were Subject No. 563 and Subject No. 564, who had passed the five-months mark after injection. There is no data to determine their life expectancy, as both have been reported to have escaped from Aszmamem Lab._

* * *

Kid tapped his pen in a steady rhythm over a scribbled East City map, the other hand supporting his chin.

Kilik had reported about Maka’s progress on the music box, which was running as smoothly as a frozen snail. It frustrated him too, because his instinct said that it had something to do with his own findings.

The colonel sighed. Maybe it was time to ask for some help from his Professor.

“Colonel Morton.”

Kid was startled by the sudden appearance of his direct superior. It was rare to see him here. The man hadn’t been known to enjoy office duties and supervising his underlings. Kid usually saw him shamelessly making phone calls to numerous ladies from his own office using the military line.

“Major General Albarn, Sir.” Kid saluted. “What can I do for you?”

“Aaaah, no, I heard that you just got back from visiting my daughter! How is she?” the major general chirped happily, being his usual idiotic self whenever he talked about his daughter. Oh, of course. What else would it be?

“She’s fine, Sir. Hard at work as usual,” Kid pulled off his answer easily. Well, it wasn’t a complete lie. She might not be completely fine, especially emotionally, but she was certainly hard at work, cracking down that little music box to find its deeper secrets. 

“True. True. That’s my wonderful baby girl for you!” Major General Albarn nodded proudly. “But what is this rumor I hear that she just got back from Briggs?”

Kid flinched. Where had he heard that?

“Kid!” Liz’s voice echoed from the hall before she even came in sight, saving him from answering his superior’s question. “I’m going to Gallows Hill tonight! I don’t feel at ease leaving Maka alone with two boys when she’s fighting with her boyfriend!” Kid gulped at the Major General’s sudden silence. _Shit!_ He frantically tried to signal Liz to stop when she finally popped in, but it was too late.

“Tomorrow’s my day off so you can’t tell me—oh!” She stopped dead in her tracks, her irritated face suddenly paled into a nervous smile. “G-good afternoon, Major General.”

The major general slit his eyes at the stammering lieutenant. “First Lieutenant Thompson, did I just hear the word _boyfriend_ and _Maka_ spoken in the same sentence?”

Liz laughed nervously, “Ahahah, no, Sir! I was just joking!”

Alas, the damage had been done.

“ _Two boys?_ ” he slowly turned to Kid, who was mentally berating Liz for carelessly blabbing about Maka’s love life inside the headquarters. Even if Maka’s overprotective father had locked himself inside his office too frequently to hear directly, other soldiers still could, and military gossip traveled faster than the local housewives’ hot topic. The lieutenant just gave him a shaky laugh and an apologetic look before slowly backpedaling out of the room. The traitor.

“Uh… I stationed Major Rung at Gallows Hill to help her, Sir.”

“Then who’s the other one?”

“A—a new friend, Sir.”

“Kristopher…” the older man sneered.

Kid refrained from gulping. The Major General used his first name, which meant he had to spill or end up having a fancy bullet hole between his eyebrows.

“All the details. Now!”

* * *

It should be noted that Soul had tried his best to maintain his cool in the presence of Spirit Albarn.

Alas, it was not an easy task.

“So you’re _Soul_ , huh?” The older man wrinkled his nose, disdainful and condescending, as if he was speaking about something stepped under his shoe.

Oh, now he understood why Maka always used _that tone_ when speaking about her father.

Soul was torn between kicking the guy’s butt or snorting in front of his face. A truly difficult choice. Shame he couldn’t do either because the Major General was still wearing his holster and Soul rather liked his head without any bullet holes.

“Yes, Sir.”

“I don’t like your tone,” the Albarn patriarch scoffed, slitting his eyes. “Too rambunctious. Rude and cynical!”

 _Wha—_ he had just spoken two syllables!

“My Maka is the softest and gentlest angel to ever grace this earth. She needs someone worthy of her, someone who will treat her like the absolute princess she is! She’s fragile, sweet, pure, like a baby bud of a white rose!” the father rhapsodised clamorously, every cell of his being lightening up with every word.

Soul couldn’t help the incredulity, saying, “Uh… Are we talking about the same Maka?”

“Of course we are! If that’s not how you depict her in your mind, then why are you here? I don’t need any punk without class hanging around my precious wittle angel!” Spirit stuck out his nose, body language shifting into a cheap imitation of nobility as he strode out of the room.

Still mind-boggled by Spirit’s appearance, Soul leaned into Black☆Star (who had wisely chosen to be mute for the past ten minutes) and whispered in disbelief, “ _He_ married Mrs. Kamiko?!”

Black☆Star turned at him and replied without missing a beat, both tone and expression flat as a board: “I have that knowledge since dinosaurs walked on the planet and still experience the same shock every time I thought about it.”

Huh.

* * *

Maka should’ve already learned to shut her mouth when facing the combined force of Thompson sisters and girl talks.

Her Papa got home that evening, bringing with him the Thompson Sisters, who announced that they would stay for a girl’s night. Liz’s grumble made Maka speculate that it was actually Papa who forced himself to come along with the sisters, not the other way around. (She’d overheard something about intimidation and domination assertance to a certain Ishvalan boy).

She sighed. She dearly hoped for Soul to be okay.

“Oh, how’s the relationship with your hubby?” Patty chirped, hugging a pillow with a beaming smile, ignoring Maka’s sputters. “Still fighting?”

Haughtily sticking out her nose, Liz interjected, “That’s why I always say he’s bad news! Maka needs someone gentler and—”

“He’s not my—whatever, okay, you two! Just please, stop it!” Maka shoved a plushie to Liz’s face, denying her blush. “Things are just very awkward between us, okay? I don’t need you guys to make everything worse!”

“But from what I see, you’ve already made up, yes? You’ve been spending more time with him these days, and he seems so happy it’s almost adorable,” Tsubaki, who had been dragged into this dreadful pajama party by the younger Thompson, chimed in. She turned to Patty with a deceptively sweet smile. “He even makes her sandwiches!”

Maka loved Tsubaki, she really did, but at times like this she should’ve known that Tsu was a traitor.

“Aww! That is sooooo cute!” Patty’s eyes sparkled. Tsu and Liz exchanged a knowing look, causing Maka to throw Liz another plushie. Even Blair had managed to make a teasing face, which irritated Maka to no end. How could she do that? She was a cat!

“And so? What happened, Maka?”

Maka groaned. “I just… Ugh...” 

Tsu calmly sipped her chamomile tea while both sisters leaned forward with identical smirks on their faces. Apparently, mutual dislike between the older sister and the Ishvalan boy couldn’t stop her from hunting new gossip. Actually, Maka was half convinced that all of the Lieutenant’s hostility was only an act and she was plotting to set her and Soul up.

Oh, for the love of Nicolas Flamel.

“We’ve already made up.” Maka finally relented, hugging a pillow and mumbling, “But I still feel so awkward around him. I… I just start to overthink everything, and just... couldn’t say anything in the end.”

“Why?” the younger sister fished with that deceitfully innocent face.

“I...” Maka sighed to her pillow, frustrated between not wanting to address her problem and not being able to voice her exact emotion to begin with.

She was not the type to talk about her feelings so easily, no matter how fierce the prompting was. Especially regarding _boys_. But eventually, the inner teenager in her twenty-years-old body overwhelmed her, craving the escapism this girl-talk could offer, greedily wanting to shed the prideful façade of Maka Albarn the Second Grigori Alchemist and just whine about her problems like a normal girl.

Ugh. This boy really made her act so out of character.

“I’ve been so mean to him, have said and thought nasty things about him. I—I don’t know how to act without coming off as insensitive and ending up hurting him more, because—because of the things he’d been through. But he just… he casually falls back to his usual behavior, as if forgetting all the selfish things I did, and it makes me more awkward,” she confessed, her voice dropping fainter by the words.

Liz and Patty, who had been in the room during the Roasted by That Goddamn Oscar Ford incident, grimaced. Maybe because they remembered all the details about Soul’s creator and the source of Maka’s dilemma. Tsubaki made a wry smile as well, not that Maka knew the Xingese woman was aware of Soul’s real identity. Patty patted her back and let out soft coos, calming her as she would a wounded cat. Maka was losing count on how much she’d been sighing.

“Ugh, why can’t I just ignore these stupid… these—these—whatever these weird things I feel are? Why am I like this? Why can’t I just forget everything and just fall back to how things were? Why am I so jittery whenever he’s near me?” Maka cursed at nothing. Well, maybe herself. “Even though we had shared a room numerous times,” she added the last bit very very very quietly, still mumbled by her pillow.

But unfortunately, Tsu’s and the Thompson Sisters’ hearings were a little too otherworldly when it involved gossip. The previous gloomy air scattered away as three voices shrilled in unison, “YOU SHARED A—”

“Shut up!!”

“Ooooh! Wittle Maka sharing a bed with a boy!”

“ _So scandalous!_ ”

“I did not share a bed with him!”

And that was the moment Maka remembered that Soul’s room was precisely right under their feet.

Just kill her already.

* * *

Maka frowned at the scribbled papers in front of her. The Thompsons had already gone back to Eastern HQ, earning the house a slightly more silence and her a calm heart. Thank god. But that didn’t mean her concentration would suddenly rise up and deliver new inspiration to continue her project.

Once again, she took her magnifying glass to inspect the minuscular carvings that were covering the music box’s surfaces. But after another ten minutes of intense scrutinizing, she slammed down the magnifying glass with a frustrated screech.

She had started to work diligently on deciphering the music box ever since the Roasted by That Goddamn Oscar Ford day, but things were never easy when it came to deciphering Mama’s code, as always. She should’ve been able to connect everything smoothly, if it was a fully written document. But it was a music box. There were songs in it. She had nearly deciphered all of the carvings and pictures on that thing, had compiled it into some kind of an organized document, but really, it was useless, because all the key pieces for it to be readable were in the goddamn song.

She would never admit it under a death threat, but her musical knowledge was absolute garbage. Even a coconut was more likely to be musically literate than her.

There was also the option of asking other professionals for help, but she was Maka Albarn, and Maka Albarn didn’t ask for help. Of course, her overenthusiasm and overinflated ego was not because of the Roasted by That Goddamn Oscar Ford incident. Definitely not. She just wanted to crack this puzzle with her own power and get to the bottom of this.

The pen in her hands twirled as she thought about her options. Actually, there was another easy way. Papa played the piano, and he would do anything for her. The only problem was that she preferred to be hanged by her toes in front of Black☆Star’s workshop than to ask for musical lessons from her Papa.

And… the last time they talked—or yelled—to each other didn’t exactly end that nicely.

Almost as if being summoned, Papa popped up between the bookshelves, beaming idiotically, appearing to have forgotten their last argument as he always did.

“What is my angel doing?”

Of course he was still here. One would think a Major General would be busier than common soldiers. But no, sadly not. Maka rolled her eyes and was immediately back to her scribbling. Her Papa didn’t falter at her cold reaction, however, leaning over to inspect the music box.

“It is so pretty. Is this from one of Mama’s laboratories too?”

Maka didn’t say anything, only nodded and continued to scratch her pen against the paper. They just sat in silence for a while, or not so silent, because Papa opened the box and let its soft melody fill the air. After the song replayed for the second time, Maka’s hand paused, her mind contemplating to ask a certain question.

“Hey, Papa…”

It was lost to Maka how he jerked a little as if suddenly slapped out of a trance, because her eyes had kept trained onto her papers. She just heard him humming cheerfully, as if answering a kindergartener, making her frown. But then again, her Papa always treated her like she was two instead of twenty.

“Did Mama…”

Maka stopped herself. No. As far as she knew, Mama had never spoken about alchemy to Papa. No need to involve him. He probably didn’t know about Mama’s illegal experiment, nor the truth about Soul.

Speaking of Soul…

“Papa, did you already hear it from Kid?”

“About what, sweetheart?”

“Uh… About Soul?”

Her Papa’s vein popped comically at the mention of the Ishvalan boy’s name. But when he spoke, his tone changed into an intense worry. “What should I have known? Maka, darling, don’t tell me that—that he really is your b-b-B-BOYF—”

“NO!” her pitch jumped an octave, cheeks pink. Why did people always assume that?!

“Not that, Papa, but about his ability!” Maka grumbled to her table, her irritation caused her mouth to babble on its own. “Soul is a weapon. As in, he can turn himself into steel. He would certainly attract bad people, on top of being an Ishvalan, so Kid had protected Soul by forging him a new identity. I’m telling you because you are Kid’s direct superior, so I want you to help protect Soul too. Please don’t punish Kid for this, Papa. It was me who—Papa?”

Her Papa blinked a few times. The music box in his hands was still opened, tirelessly replaying the song.

“Sure, baby, if it’s your wish, then Papa won’t do anything!” he replied a touch too fast. “Then Papa should get going! Papa has a meeting with Brigadier General Gallad!”

Just like that, he placed the box back gently on the table and cantered out of the library. Maka tilted her head.

What was that?

* * *

Spirit stared at the road with a troubled mind, right hand nearly crushing the steering wheel while his left one gripped an old journal to death.

The old book contained his hand-scribbled music sheets from what felt like a millennia ago. From another era where his little family was whole and there were no dead wives and crying daughters in it. He managed to snatch the journal from a pile of music sheets on the top of the upright piano before storming back to his car; the very journal that contained the sheet music of the piece he’d heard inside the music box.

He composed that very piece together with Kamiko, right before she went back to Ishval and dove headfirst into that vile project.

 _It was the music they made together_. Their last one.

Something in him strongly deduced that it was a subtle message from Kamiko for him, if he thought about her choice of piece and the fact that she had hidden it inside a heavily fortressed city. Kamiko knew _he_ had both the power and skill to find the box. It was just unfortunate that he’d been too focused on tracking down her killers than to look for her records like his daughter did.

Maybe she had slipped something in these music sheets. She’d been known to go to ridiculous lengths when it came to coding, after all.

Spirit’s jaw tightened as he drove straight to the city of Patch. He had a mad alchemist to grill.

* * *

“Maka, I made you sandwiches! And salad!”

“O-oh, yeah, thank you, Soul.” Maka jolted upright, hastily fixing her crumpled pigtails (an inescapable result of banging her head onto the table in frustration).

“What are you doing?”

Soul set the plate down and leaned over to peek at her work. Maka found herself pulling away when she noticed he’d unconsciously intruded her personal space. It was certainly not because she was embarrassed, no way, it was just that she had become a little too self-conscious since that day. They had made up, yes, but like what she had whined in the last pajama party, it didn’t mean that she could fall back to her previous manner that effortlessly. Worse yet, now she found it harder to face him.

Fortunately but unknowingly to her, Soul was too happy with their newly-fixed relationship to notice her newfound embarrassment.

No. Not embarrassment. Awkwardness. Yes.

He was already back to his former self and treated her as if their almost-one-month-long conflict had never happened. Whenever he wasn’t being abducted by Kilik or Black☆Star to devil knew where, he always accompanied her in the library, happily devouring Papa’s old music books while listening to Papa’s records, or just quietly watching her grumbling to the music box. He even cheerfully—and by cheerfully, she meant _shyly_ while grumbling all the time—made her sandwiches every day! (And they were tasty too, dammit.) His excuse was because Maka was horrible at taking care of herself when she had a project to work on. Something told her that was not the entire reason, but she tried to not dwell in it too much. She had enough problems.

The Ishvalan boy also resumed the almost forgotten skinship between them, which was freaking her out because it made her aware of how blasphemously close they’d been pre-Briggs-debacle. Not to mention it had always been _her_ who initiated it. How come she had never thought of this before? Surely someone was bound to notice those uncharacteristic behaviors from her, right?

But no. No one mentioned anything. Well, except Tsubaki, maybe. And Black☆Star. Only that they used knowing smirks and twinkling eyes instead of words. Oh. That was probably why she hadn’t noticed. She diligently brushed off knowing smirks and twinkling eyes.

Now, when her brain was too busy freaking out over her own behavior, Soul gradually took over the initiation, starting from little things like brushing their hands or a light tug on her pigtails, to gentle pats on her head or tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The way he did that so innocently made her wonder if he was aware of how awkward he made her.

No. He probably wasn’t.

It frustrated her. Wasn’t it _her_ who was supposed to give him emotional support? Hadn’t she grabbed his hand and even touched his chest so casually? Where did all of that go?

Why couldn’t she just go back to the way she was before?

She really, really missed her blissful nonchalance.

“O-oh, just deciphering the music box, like usual.” She collected her panicking thoughts in time, forcing her voice to stay normal.

Soul furrowed his brow, staring at the unchanged scribbles before them. “You’re not making any progress, are you?”

She grumbled to the table, mumbling something about impossible codes and stupid musical languages. Yes. She had added almost nothing to the papers within the past week.

“You don’t understand the piece?”

“Piece?”

“The song.”

“Oh…” Maka said awkwardly, imitating his toothache grin. Curse her musical knowledge.

“Uh… I can help you turn it into a music sheet?” he offered, tone picking up to turn it into a question. “I already memorized the piece, shouldn’t be that hard to write it down.”

Well, he was right. She could work something out if it was something on paper rather than a series of sounds that made her awfully sleepy whenever she heard them. The only reason she hadn’t done that was, of course, because of her pathetic musical knowle— _wait!_

“Y-you taught yourself how to read—and write—music?!”

A nod.

“Just by reading those books?”

Another nod.

“In just… what? Three months?!”

“One,” he corrected, suddenly sounding shy.

Maka gaped at the slowly reddening boy. Her previous awkwardness was scattered by pure surprise. How come she’d never known of this? Well, she already knew that he’d been enjoying her music books and could play the piano a tiny bit, but still…

“Well, maybe I can’t write something crazy like an original composition, obviously, but… if it’s writing a piece down, I think… I can do it…” his mumbling was becoming fainter, hand flying to scratch the back of his neck.

She stared at him as if he had just stated he could turn rusted iron into gold. Actually, no. She was an alchemist. Turning rusted iron into gold was real easy. The thing he’d just proposed was far more amazing.

Soul, a boy with absolutely no prior knowledge about musical theory due to being raised in a lab and had isolated himself in a desert throughout his teenage years, had taught himself about it from scratch. _Without her knowing,_ if she might add. He must be some kind of a prodigy. 

“You’re amazing. Do you know that?”

Maka covered her mouth. Red was bleeding all over her.

“Did I just say that out loud?”

“...Well, yeah...” Soul chuckled, a light pink on the tip of his ears rapidly shifting to red.

How come a chuckle could sound that cute?

_Wait—what?_

Did she just think he was cute?

Maka groaned. She would find a shovel to dig her own grave first thing in the morning.

* * *

“Spirit, what a lovely surprise.”

Frank N. Stein drawled with a tone that was a far cry from ‘lovely.’ Spirit ignored him, lifting his old journal instead.

“I need you to decipher this.”

Frank lifted one of his eyebrows, his face still in that creepily stoic indifference, but Spirit knew his wife’s former lab partner good enough to tell that he was intrigued. The man took the book from him, flipping its pages with a calculating hum.

“I thought you’re not playing anymore, Spirit?”

“I’m not.” Spirit tried to keep his tone even, doing his best to ignore the reason why he hadn’t touched a piano key in twelve years. He had forgotten how irritating Frank’s nonchalance was. “It possibly contains Kamiko’s message. I need to know what it is, and you’re the only one who actually knows how to decipher her records.”

“You know Maka’s better than me.” Frank gave him a skeptical look.

Spirit refrained from wincing. “I… I don’t want her to know.”

“She’s going to crack this one too if she gets her hands on it, you know?”

“She’s musically illiterate.”

And this time Frank did laugh. “Never have I thought that I would live to see the day I hear Spirit Albarn insulting his dear daughter.”

Spirit growled, feeling heat reaching up his cheeks. “Just get to work, you lunatic!”

Still snickering, Frank turned to the depths of his lair, leaving Spirit to grumble silently behind him.

* * *

Oscar yelped as he accidentally knocked a bunch of books off the table.

Sighing, he adjusted his glasses as he picked the books from the floor, trying to look like a responsible officer instead of a man who was a second away from dream-land, even though there was no one other than himself in the dimly lit archive room. He really could use some coffee.

Refraining the urge to yawn, Oscar tidied the sprawled documents on the table and carefully clipped them inside their hiding place; a black folder disguised as a normal military document.

While Albarn moped around pitifully inside her damn private library, (no, he wasn’t jealous of it, of course), Oscar had worked his ass off on the task given by Colonel Morton; looking up the strange disappearances and odd cold cases happened in East City within the past decade.

It was a meticulous task, because many of those cases had nearly no clue or closure. He and Colonel Morton agreed that all of them were done by one person. An alchemist, most likely. But for what, that was for him to find out.

Oscar had never admitted it out loud, but he was confident in his alchemy knowledge. He even guessed that his understanding of the principles was on par with Kilik, or even Albarn, who were State Alchemists. Even though a tiny voice he kept denying always deprecated God for not granting him the gift for alchemy, he was proud of his intelligence. It also helped that he had a great memory. His intellect was enough for Colonel Morton to appoint him as one of his closest underlings. He was always the first person the Colonel sought to exchange thoughts about alchemical problems inside the military. Not Kilik. Not Albarn. But him.

He remembered the first time the Colonel—who was still a Major at the time—recruited him into his team. It was way past the curfew, and Oscar was reading a book in the restricted section of the East City Library quietly. Some might even say _sneakily_. (And—okay, he was practically breaking into the room in a not-so-legal way, but the section was full of rare and prohibited alchemy books! He just _couldn’t_ help it!)

He had thought that it was the end of his career when a superior walked towards him with an intimidating glare, asking what he was doing, but to Oscar’s eternal surprise, the young Major didn’t reprimand him, didn’t even scold him, but instead engaged him in a deep—and very intriguing—discussion about alchemy. The young Major hadn’t even asked what a non-alchemist was doing with an alchemy book, and instead praised Oscar’s deep understanding of difficult alchemy principles, saying that it was one of the very few times the Major had enjoyed a deep alchemy discussion with someone. They had even breached over the topic of human transmutation; a thing that was strictly considered as a taboo within the—

Oscar sat up straight, his glasses slipped a little from the abruptness of his motion.

His mind quickly retreated back from his past memories and rapidly went to his current problem; to his sudden realization.

Not minding the books that were falling down again because of his haste, Oscar snatched the document Colonel Morton had left him and began scanning the cases’ locations. He spreaded out an East City map and grabbed a pencil.

After a mind-numbing hour of precise verification and triple-checking, Oscar’s eyes went wide.

_No way._

* * *

_[The Black Blood Project, Kamiko Albarn, 1911, town of Aszmamem, Ishval]_

_The primary goal of the project is to make advanced human soldiers that can turn into a living weapon, who will act as the military’s secret assassins as well as infiltrators to penetrate enemy countries._

_The subject’s soul balance is based on beings made from Philosopher’s stone: the Homunculus [classified information]. While the physical ability of the subject is based on the Star Clan._

_The basic theory of this project is to inject Black Blood into physically-altered subjects and create an alchemical formula so that the subjects can transform into a self-wielding weapon at will._

_Black Blood itself is a human blood fused with liquid Philosopher’s stone and sixteen other substances [classified information]. The sulfur concentration of the Black Blood is to be merged into a single unit of energy instead of divided into countless units, as in the case of a pure Philosopher’s stone. Thus, creating a weaker, but more solidified and controlled source of energy._

_Subject’s internal organs have to be altered considerably to be able to contain Black Blood, as a normal human’s body will reject another sulfur concentration and begin to deconstruct. At least twenty alterations are necessary to create a standard vessel._

_It was designed so that the subjects can perform a passive alchemy and turn themselves into weapons, without the risk of them becoming too powerful by allowing them to perform an active transmutation._

_However, the project has not been perfected yet. The greatest flaw of this project is the high-concentration of iron inside the subject’s bloodstream. While, with alchemical modifications, their body can delay the effect of hemochromatosis, the internal organ failure will begin eventually. Most of the subjects died in less than a month after injection._

_The alchemical energy generated by Black Blood can prolong the delay of hemochromatosis effect to a degree. But because Black Blood isn’t as strong as an actual Philosopher’s stone, its energy has a limit. Frequent use of weapon transmutation will drain the energy faster, thus shortening the subject’s lifespan._

_The most successful experiments as of July 1911 are Subject No. 563 and Subject No. 564, who had passed the five months mark after injection. There is no data to determine their life expectancy, as both have been reported to have escaped from Aszmamem Lab._

* * *

The papers in Maka’s hands trembled from her effort to keep her tears at bay.

Not that she succeeded. Her cheeks were completely wet.

She had expected to find classified information of whatever forbidden things Mama had done, yes, but not this… this explicit information about the Black Blood project. About what Soul had been through.

Imagining his body being cut open again and again made her heart feel like it was being mutilated by a rusted chainsaw. _Twenty alterations. At the bare minimum._

Gasping for air, she tortured her own mind by thinking about the Human Weapon’s life expectancy. She didn’t know how Soul had managed to survive all these years. She didn’t even know if he was aware of his own condition. _If he did—_ Maka struggled to breathe _—then he was willing to shorten his own lifespan by offering himself to be her bodyguard_.

_Stupid, ridiculous, self-sacrificing, suicidal, utterly idiotic lump of a weapon!_

Her grip on the papers loosened as she let out her first loud sob, palms trembling heavily as she tried and failed to contain her bawl.

How could he even contain all of this? All alone in that dead city?

Oh.

_Oh._

He must have witnessed his brother slowly dying too.

He must have to bury his brother’s body all by himself.

Her sobs became louder and louder as her heart involuntarily relived both Soul’s grief and her own. Both of her vivid memory of Mama returning home as a disfigured corpse in a tightly-nailed coffin and disturbing imagery of Soul crying beside a dying older version of himself mixed into one severe agony, tearing her soul apart. She was not aware of her own surroundings until a loud crash echoed and there were strong and frantic arms shaking her shoulders.

“—ka! Maka! Hey, what’s wrong?!”

When she lifted her eyes to meet his red ones, her final thread was broken. She threw herself onto his chest, completely forgetting that it was still covered in bandages, clutching him for dear life as she ruined his shirt with her tears. He awkwardly patted her back, completely unsure of what to do.

“I’m so sorry, Soul! I’m so sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Her apologies were blurred by her noisy sobs and irregular breathing.

“H-hey, why are you apologizing?” Soul tried to pry her off of him, maybe to look into her face, but she was too busy latching herself to him and hiding her tears on his chest. “Maka? C’mon, what happened?”

“I’m sorry… Soul, I’m so sorry…” She continued to blabber apologies, not entirely hearing him.

Above her head, completely missed by her distraught mind, his face contorted into a worried grimace, but shifted into a deep frown when his eye corner caught sight of what sprawled all over her desk. His hand tentatively flew to return her hug, his lips lowering to bury themselves in her hair.

* * *

Sixty miles from where Maka Albarn cried herself to sleep in the arms of a certain Ishvalan boy, Spirit Albarn stared intently at two rows of scribbles he and his old friend had succeeded to decipher out of the music sheet.

_‘21 December 1924’_

_‘42° 42.564′ N 42° 01.000′ W’_

Amazing what Kamiko could intersperse within a single piece.

It was what Frank could decipher within the music notes Spirit had broken down, without the addition of the actual documents carved all around the music box.

The piece itself served a double role: When paired with the music box, it would be the key to decipher the actual document, but alone, it was a hidden message. Ironically, Spirit had no idea of the former while his daughter completely missed the latter.

“A date, and a location,” Frank muttered in his amused—yet detached—tone. The ‘for what?’ was left unspoken but intrigued both of their minds notwithstanding.

“I’ll take it to Azusa to see what’s with this place and date.”

“You’re not gonna tell Maka?”

Spirit pulled his lips into a thin line, fingers flying to hold his temple. “No. This is definitely too dangerous for her.”

Frank let out a snort that was successfully ignored by Spirit.

Yeah, he absolutely could not endanger her further. It was appalling enough to see her flaunting a Silver Pocket Watch while wandering all around the strange places of Amestris. He would not drag her into this possible suicide mission. He could not bear it if the only precious thing left for him threw her life away to challenge death.

Spirit rushed out of Frank’s lab before he could hear the last part of what Frank had been deciphering: about Homunculus.

He must hurry. He had a dead wife to avenge.

* * *

Pride opened her eyes with veiled distaste to see her foolish accomplice going on and on about what would he do if their plan succeeded.

No. Pride certainly did not consider the man an ‘accomplice’, not as much as a ‘back-up’ ingredient, but she was not going to tell him that. She was willing to lower her dignity and humor him for a little, even if it was only to prevent any unnecessary dramas. For now.

Nars Garnier, 38, although not with a State Certification, was a pretty accomplished alchemist. He was perfect as Pride’s little puppet, because the man had a ridiculous amount of pride and unquenchable thirst for glory. It was a child’s play for Pride to manipulate that ugly aspect of humans.

Oh, the irony.

Garnier continued his tirade of how the State had done him injustice, for not recognizing the genius that he was, for not giving him the glory and respect he deserved. Now, he taunted, Amestris would kneel before him.

Pride buried a chuckle and put on a benevolent smile. What a laughable desire. Pitiful. Just pitiful. It might be a _right_ for her, but for him, that was just a puerile, ludicrous dream.

There was no being more fitting for the top than _her_. She didn’t crave power, she didn’t crave wealth. What she wanted—what was her right—was to be the highest being. The one who was entitled to hold all the universe’s mysteries and secrets.

And the time where her dreams came true was approaching.

* * *

Maka opened her puffy eyes to see the reversed image of what happened in a certain broken church at Little Hook a lifetime ago.

She was half sitting on a chair, still inside her stuffy library, and half sleeping on someone’s shoulder. Someone who was part of the reason she was crying in the first place.

“Morning.” Soul gave her the slightest of grins.

It was then Maka became totally aware of how close their faces were and how he had an arm slung around her shoulder to keep her from falling off the chair. She let out a little shriek that was so reminiscent of Blair’s screech and immediately pulled herself as far away from him as possible. There might have been a tinge of disappointment flashing on his eyes, but Maka was too flustered to pay attention.

“I don’t bite,” he said, voice coming as a tiny bit irritated, making her flush doubled.

She ignored him to look out of the window, noticing that the sky had indeed turned bright blue. Gulping, she tried to not think that she’d practically slept in his embrace all night. What would Aunt Myra say? What would _Mama_ say?

The latter brought her back from her puddle of embarrassment, straightening her backbone as she snapped her head at the papers that were still scattered all over the table, Soul’s handwritten sheet music at the very top. He appeared to sense her change of mood and grimaced towards the paper as well, arranging himself to look more defensive and closed-off.

Maka sucked back a threatening sob and squared her shoulders to approach him. He flinched a bit, but wasn’t pulling away, thankfully.

“Soul, do you—”

“Can we please not talk about this?” He was half hissing and half pleading. “Just… not right now.”

Maka frowned. Her desire to protect his peace of mind clashed with her need to confront him; to talk him out of his own vow. Because it wasn’t a matter of old promises and requests anymore, but about his very own survival. She would never let him protect her if it meant scraping away his very chance to live.

“Do you know about this? About the risk of using your ability?”

He squirmed.

“Soul!”

“I…” He took a glance at her fiery eyes swiftly before mumbling, “…yeah.”

She wanted to punch him, to chop him to death with her thickest alchemical theory book, to kick the living shit out of him—whatever could deliver her anger the best. But no, she couldn’t, not when part of the reason he did this was to protect her; to fulfill an extended plea of a dead woman.

The peeking bandage under his shirt doubled her guilt, contorting her face into an ugly wince. Just how much did this boy treat himself as a disposable thing? Why did he do all of this? Just for a selfish girl like her?

How could she make him understand that she wasn't worth it?

“Why?” She felt her lips quiver as she sank back onto the chair, tears threatening to pour when she couldn’t figure out how to express her frustration. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His eyes abandoned hers, both hands balled into fists between his knees, voice dropping into a mumble. “I just don’t think it’s important. ‘Ssa normal thing when you’re a human weapon, so…”

“Of course it’s important, you stupid boy!” she hissed. Her fist slammed his left chest—lightly or painfully, she didn’t care. “When did I imply that I want to be protected by killing you slowly?! How could you do this?”

“I…” He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but in the end he was just grimacing. “This is what I was trained for. This is how I can protect you.”

She heard the implied ‘I don’t know how to do it any other way.’

Apparently crying for a whole night hadn’t dulled her pain yet, because she still felt her heart bursting with emotions, making her breath hitch. It frightened her how much she actually valued Soul’s existence in her life. It was daunting to realize how easy he blended into her sphere, and how effortless it was for her to like him. How painful it was to just imagine him gone.

Her tears started to spill again, either out of anger, sadness, or frustration; Maka didn’t know. Maybe all of them. Soul’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight, fingers frantically trying to wipe her cheeks.

She caught his hand and held it tight on her face, eyes blazing. “Don’t”—she pierced his eyes with the fiercest glare she could make—“ever transmute again. Not for me!”

“Maka—!”

“Just don’t! Promise me!”

“How can I protect you if I—”

“I WANT TO PROTECT YOU TOO, IDIOT!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!” she yelled, the hand that was gripping his fingers started to tremble from the force of her outburst. Soul stopped dead at her words, completely caught off guard. Ignoring his lack of answer, she proceeded to shout her innermost desire, embarrassment and awkwardness be damned. “I DON’T WANT TO BE THE REASON YOU’RE DYING! IF ANYTHING, I WANT TO BE THE REASON YOU’RE ALIVE! I WANT TO _FIX_ YOU! I **_WILL_** SEARCH FOR A WAY TO FIX YOU! HELL, I WILL TRANSMUTE YOU MYSELF IF I HAVE TO!”

Panting, she let go of her hold, causing his hand to fall limply onto his knees. He was still totally stupefied, watching her as if she had just declared she would fight god for him. Which, in a way, was true.

Then it clicked.

Oh, so this was what Mama must’ve been feeling.

Mama had infiltrated the black project in the middle of its research. It was not her who started these experiments. She must have dove headfirst to find these children’s bodies had already been altered beyond recognition.

This must’ve been the reason why she saved Soul and his brother in the first place; why she included alkahestry in the experiment. Because alkahestry was an art of healing. Maybe she’d thought she could save those children.

Maka wiped her eyes. Finally, she understood Mama again. It only took a hole in Soul’s chest and several heartbreaks within the past six weeks for her to see the truth.

How awful.

“Maka…” Soul exhaled weakly, his tone lost and bewildered all at once. Maka was not aware, since she was busy glaring holes into her own knees to prevent any more tears from spilling, but Soul was bringing his hand to touch her, only to stop midway and take back his fist, face wrinkling to form a pained wince. “Does this mean I’m not allowed to follow you anymore?” His voice was small, but there was no way she would miss the slight pain in his words.

“Wh—I, what?” Maka blinked dumbly, processing his words a second too slow. “No, you—I mean—”

She struggled with her own words. If she was being honest, she would never want Soul to follow her in her journeys ever again. One awful memory was enough. Not to mention the danger of those homunculi, who might or might not be targeting her. But she knew enough that forbidding him would hurt him more than any physical injuries could. The past month was clue enough on how miserable he would be.

He was a truly compassionate person. A stupid, sensitive, absurd, delicate, reckless, caring, compassionate person.

Bursting emotions brought out the ironic realization to her. She had never realized before, but she was always doted on, sheltered, and babied by everyone around her. Papa, Tsubaki, Black☆Star, even Kid and the Thompsons; they acted as if they gave her freedom, but in reality she was being watched, allowed to go her desired way just because there was someone who would shield her. They said and acted as if she was a grown adult, but no, she was treated like a fragile newborn.

It wasn’t a bad thing, really. They loved her, indeed, but it was just not right.

But she never felt those things when she was with Soul. Despite him being the only person who had verbally declared that he would protect her, he never caged her.

He was the first to treat her as a fully-capable person. The first to ever _depend_ on her. He looked at her like she was just _Maka_ , a normal girl with a penchant for alchemy, not a fragile child with a delicate heart.

“You can go with me,” she finally said, so softly she wasn’t even sure she’d said it. There was a light breath coming from Soul’s direction.

“But I’m not allowed to use my ability?”

“You can—you can use guns or other weapons; I know you’re a good shot!” Maka hastily added, remembering his frightening accuracy when Liz ‘playfully’ tested his shooting skills. “I’m—I just… Just please don’t transmute anymore, Soul… I-I can’t—” She let out a slight sob, knowing full well that, despite his strange devotion towards her, she was not his master. She couldn’t just give him orders or forbid him as she pleased. “I’m not worth it…”

When she lifted her face to see him, he was making that awful toothache grin again, not exactly agreeing with her.

“You are worth it, Maka…”

She blinked at his eyes. They were so red. So deep. She felt herself lost at how much emotion he put into those words. Stupidly devoted, idiotic, ridiculous boy.

“And you are worth it too, Soul,” she whispered, casting away her embarrassment to make sure he knew and understood. Unlike her earlier fit, she brought her hand gently to cover his heart, feeling his heart pounding at the same rhythm as his double-soul. “You are worth living. Don’t treat yourself as a disposable weapon ever again…”

His eyes sparked something unreadable, drowning her in their silent emotion.

At that moment, Maka declared within her heart:

_She would fix him._


	6. Ruins Are The Best Place to Make Commitments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I also don’t mind forever if it’s with you.”

_[Alkahestry-based Human Weapon, Kamiko Albarn, 1913, town of Baschool, Briggs]_

_I failed to completely turn Subject No. 563 and Subject No. 564 back to their former bodies, but I have found a way to alter the alchemical coding with alkahestry._

_It prevents them from fully turning into a self-wielding weapon, needing a wielder [Meister] with alkahestry-based transmutation to activate their full-body-transformation. It is to keep the military from using them, as well as to greatly halt the hemochromatosis process._

* * *

“Major Yumi, how about the thing I told you to find out?”

Azusa saluted as her direct superior slipped into the room. “Sir, I’ve found out that this particular location is the East City National Museum.”

“And the date?”

“Nothing except that it’s the date of this year’s solstice, Sir.”

The man hummed, taking the information in as a deep frown settled on his face. “There must be something else.”

“There’s nothing particularly amiss, Sir,” Azusa replied, adjusting her glasses. But after a second, she added, “Although, if there’s something that might interest you, four decades ago, the northeast block of what is now the Archival Section of the National Museum used to be East City’s first Laboratorium, before it was relocated to the new building.”

Major General Albarn slit his eyes, as if finally catching a prey’s tail. “That’s it. That’s the place. There’s gotta be something hidden in it! My wife wouldn’t go to that much trouble just to code that location if there’s nothing going on in that building! Find out everything about it immediately! Use any means necessary!”

“But, Sir, we’ll need further permittance if we—”

“Who said I’m commanding you to do this with the high command’s knowledge, Major?” Major General cut her off with a little bit more force than normal. “Do it silently. Like always.”

“Sir, this is certainly going to cause you more trouble in the long r—”

“I don’t care!” her superior interrupted her again, growling. “I don’t give a damn about my position if it means I could get a clue about the people who caused my wife’s death! We have two things to think about: a location, and a date! I want to know everything before the said date, do you understand, Major Yumi?!”

Azusa refrained herself from commenting further. The Major General had looked more and more… _unbalanced_ , since he’d obtained new clues a week before; a clue that Azusa herself was not sure had anything to do with the incident ten years ago. It was just a piece from what Maka had dug from under Baschool. Seemed important, yes, but didn’t mean it was particularly a hint for _this_ case. Azusa didn’t believe in coincidences.

But the Major General had buried his desire for revenge for so long that it started to leak out into his usual façade. He started to lose his composure. Even other soldiers had noticed something was up with the Major General. 

She would do her best to find out more about it, of course. She was eager to see justice for Kamiko Albarn served, as much as the Major General she dared say. But what she was truly afraid of was if they were just chasing after a dead clue, again. If there was no one for the Major General to put the blame on.

She had seen everything. She had seen the Albarn couple’s last fight. She had seen the disfigured corpse of Kamiko Albarn. She had seen the ring they kept within the coffin. She had seen the absolute _nothingness_ on Maka Albarn’s face as she stared at the freshly buried grave.

She had seen everything. She had seen how Spirit Albarn lost himself before said grave.

She didn’t wish to see it a second time.

So she just inhaled once, and answered, “Yes, Sir.”

Azusa just wished that all of it wouldn’t end in a bad way.

* * *

Maka didn’t know how long she had stared at the telephone receiver in her hand. Kilik was out of town for some mysterious assignment so she had to report her progress directly to Kid. She struggled with her own mind for the twelfth time, and finally decided to put the phone down. She knew it wasn’t a wise decision to stall telling Kid her new findings, but her heart wasn’t ready. It might be better and safer to just give her report to Kilik in a proper document. He would get back the next day anyway. Yeah. It could wait.

Besides, she had only worked out half of the entire document from the music box. There were things she still couldn’t decipher, so she used this to justify her stalling.

Rubbing her eyes, Maka grumbled to her Mama. _Why did she have to make things so difficult?_

She left the phone and floated down to the first floor. Her steps brought her to the living room against her will, following the sounds of snickers and familiar grumbles accompanied by some echoes of piano notes. She found a tentatively enthusiastic Soul observing an amused Sid tuning Papa’s old upright piano.

She smiled despite herself.

She knew Soul had messed around with Papa’s old piano, trying to put the music theories he’d read into practice. So far, Maka thought Soul’s playing was okay for a beginner, but she was obviously a horrible judge, because she couldn’t tell that the piano sound was flat. Sid had heard Soul’s playing from his shop yesterday and decided that the piano desperately needed some fine-tuning. So here he was.

“I think you should charge Papa for this, Sid,” Maka said, grabbing both men’s attention. She pretended she didn’t see Soul’s little twitch.

“I’ll send the bill, don’t you worry,” answered Sid, throwing his face-splitting grin at her.

Sometimes Maka forgot how Sid was basically jack-of-all-trades. It was a wonder where or why an automail engineer slash ex-elite soldier learned to fine-tune a piano.

Really. He had done so much to maintain things in the Albarn residence since her parents’ relationship started to crack; since her parents stopped giving their attention to anything other than their fights. He had tended to every little thing, from repairing the roof to taking care of Mama’s old telescope.

Maka felt her eyes become misty. She had never truly appreciated how much she owed him. “Thank you, Sid… Really...”

Sid let out a breathy laugh. “I’m just happy that there’s someone who wants to play this piano again.”

She hid her smile and glanced at Soul, who was silently radiating a combination of shyness and giddy excitement beside her. “Y’don’t have to do it,” he mumbled to the floor.

Sid waved him off with his tuning lever. “An out of tune piano would do you no good, kid. I might not look like it, but musically ignorant is not the kind of man I am.”

Soul dipped his head lower. “‘M just messing around anyway,” he still insisted, but Sid ignored him.

The older man pressed a key and listened to the sound with closed eyes, hummed, then closed the piano lid and declared, “Okay. All’s good! Now you can practice to your heart’s content!”

“Mmrgh…” answered Soul.

Sid slapped his back in the fatherly manner he always did to Black☆Star, which only resulted in a violent cough when done on Soul. “Just give me a recital sometime and I’ll consider it even!” he thundered. Then he packed his tools and left with a booming laugh. Maka smiled. It was clear where Black☆Star picked his loudness from.

Despite his earlier words, Soul sent a silent request for permission, asking if he could sit and play the thing right away. His eyes darted from the piano to hers, thumbs fidgeting as he pressed his lips into a thin line.

She snorted, rolling her eyes as if saying, _‘You just ask now?_ ’ and tilted her head to the instrument as an answer. His eyes widened slightly, looking bright with excitement as he wasted no time to slide into the piano bench, already starting to push the piano keys giddily.

Smiling inwardly, she sat on a nearby couch and watched him play. She was worried their relationship would get strained again because of the last incident in the library, but to her relief, both of them had reached an unspoken agreement to bury it, deliberately avoiding to talk about that particular topic. She knew it only meant carrying a time bomb, but she would have it for now. Soul was here, and he was okay.

Things weren’t great, but at least they were okay.

Maka’s thoughts flew back to the present when Soul stopped his playing and scrutinized the music sheet in front of him with a frown, struggling to play a particularly hard part. She stifled a snort. He looked like a child with a new toy. How adorable.

Wait.

Maka angrily frowned. The last thought was completely unnecessary.

* * *

“Listen, Kristopher, I need you to be very brave. Be a good child and wait for me here. Don’t get out whatever happens and don’t make noise,” his father said urgently, shoving him into a wardrobe.

Little Kristopher felt tears prickling his eyes, but he held it back bravely. _The son of the Führer does not cry._ But a wavering question slipped out of his lips nonetheless. “We’re gonna be okay, right, Father? _You’re_ gonna be okay, right?”

His Father smiled. And in that moment, Little Kristopher realized how old his Father looked. There were so many more tired lines and white hairs than he’d remembered. But his smile was still warm, full of love. At least that was what Little Kristopher thought. He was too small and scared to recognize fear lurking behind those golden eyes.

“Of course, son. I’ll be back for you in a bit. Wait for me here and remember: don’t make a noise. You can do that, right?”

Little Kristopher was overwhelmed with an indescribable fear, but he nodded shakily. He was a good son. “Yes, Father.”

With that, his father kissed his forehead and closed the wardrobe, trapping Little Kristopher in a cramped and suddenly-bloodcurdling dark box.

But Little Kristopher was brave. He might be trembling and was a touch shy from crying, but he was brave. If his father told him he shouldn’t make a noise, then he would put all of his being into silence.

He didn’t know how long he had been sitting in the dark, counting his own breath. But after an eternity, a loud sound was heard from the outside, and there were gunshots accompanying a deranged laugh.

His breath quickened. He slapped his hands on his mouth and pinned his eyes to the ground. He should be silent.

He could hear more gunshots, and there were definitely people fighting just outside the room. There were more yells and screams, but he couldn’t make any word out of them.

Little Kristopher just sat there. Silent. Still counting his own rapid breath. The dark was still nerve-wracking, but he was okay. He was a good son. He was brave. He was brave. He was brave.

But the noises had now reached the room. He could definitely hear his Father’s voice, but he was too paralyzed to understand a thing.

There was something big hitting the wardrobe, rattling it with sheer force. The impact left the wardrobe door a little crooked, and something wet and smelling like rusted iron splashed through the little opening onto Little Kristopher’s face. He didn’t like it one bit.

_“—lonel?”_

Little Kristopher still hadn’t understood what happened, but he could make out shapes and colors through the little slit between the wardrobe doors. There was someone very buffy standing up with a grunt, complaining something about 'Father' and 'May-doo-sah'.

_“—Sir?”_

That someone was bloody. Very bloody. There was a hole on his forehead that even Little Kristopher could vaguely tell was a gunshot wound.

But the person was standing. And chuckling.

_“Kid?”_

Little Kristopher just sat there. Still in the dreadfully dark wardrobe. Still completely silent. Although his silence wasn’t so much stemmed from his obedience to his Father anymore.

_“Kid?!”_

“Kristopher?!”

There were more voices now, calling his name. But Little Kristopher was still frozen.

“Kristopher! It’s okay! It’s okay! We’re here! You’re okay!”

Little Kristopher barely registered that it was the voice of Lieutenant Colonel Albarn. He felt his body being lifted and brought into a hug, too tight to be reassuring, and his face was pinned into someone’s shoulder.

“Kid, please!”

_The room was completely trashed. There was red everywhere. It was far from the neat and orderly room he’d seen before he entered the wardrobe. There was red everywhere. His Father wouldn’t be pleased if he saw the room. He must tidy it later, make sure everything was in order. But there was red everywhere. There was someone lying on the floor, but Lieutenant Colonel Albarn firmly held him in place, preventing him from seeing who it was._

_“It’s okay, Kristopher! It’s okay! You’re okay!” Lieutenant Colonel Albarn kept repeating those words, even though Little Kristopher didn’t understand why he kept doing that._

_Where was his Father?_

“Kristopher?!”

_He wanted to see his Father._

_“It’s okay, Kristopher!”_

“KRISTOPHER!!”

Kid’s eyes flashed open. A pair of firm hands were shaking him awake. When his eyes focused, he found a very worried-looking Liz in front of him.

Oh, apparently, he was covered in cold sweat. And his breathing was especially loud.

“You okay?” Liz demanded, still not letting go of her hold.

“I—yeah. Just… just a bad dream,” Kid rasped lamely. His voice was cracked and that was not good. He was supposed to be the rock in his team.

Liz sent a glare that said she wasn’t impressed by his pathetic attempt at covering his frenzied brain. Also, his breathing was still too loud. 

But he was a professional in donning a business face. In _eight_ quick breaths he was back in his usual composure, even if it was still a touch too tight. _A sound soul dwells in a sound mind and a sound body._ He couldn't lose his balance.

“I’m okay, _Lieutenant_ ,” he emphasized the last word; a subtle cue for her to let it go.

Of course, she was still stubborn. She was Liz Thompson. But before she could say anything, there were frantic steps echoing from the hallway and a panting Ford came into the office a second later, nearly tripping himself in his haste.

“What’s wrong, Ford?” Kid urged. Even though he was often enthusiastic, Ford was never frantic. He always prided himself as the poised scholar among his team.

“Colonel! This is terrible!” he blurted, slamming a paper onto the table.

Both Liz and Kid leaned into the paper, which was actually a map of East City, and obviously had been ripped out of a larger map. Above it were scribbles of specifically placed dots, connected by a circle into something that sent a chill down Kid’s spine.

“Ford, _what is this?_ ”

Ford scrunched his face in a grave seriousness, for once not bothering to adjust his crooked glasses. “Exactly what you’re thinking about, Sir. Those dots are where our list of cases happened.”

Liz was vibrating with anxiousness and dread beside him. “Kid, what’s the meaning of this?!” she demanded, clearly not liking her inability to grasp an alchemical problem.

Kid ignored her, instead balling his hands hard enough that his knuckles turned white. His suspicion was right.

“I’m calling Professor Stein.”

* * *

_[Alkahestry-based Human Weapon, Kamiko Albarn, 1913, town of Baschool, Briggs]_

_I have altered the alchemical coding of Subject No. 563 and Subject No. 564 with alkahestry._

_It prevents them from fully being a self-wielding weapon and needing a wielder [further to be called a Meister] with alkahestry-based transmutation to activate their full-body-transformation. It is to keep the military from using them, as well as to greatly halt the hemochromatosis process._

_However, this doesn’t mean the alkahestry had succeeded to fully stop the inevitable organ failure and eventual death. It only prolongs their life, as constant transmutation with the Black Blood as the trigger will drain its core energy, thus shortening the subject’s lifespan._

_A way to prevent this altogether, is to never transmute into a weapon ever again. The other way is to have a permanent Meister doing the triggering and inking a counter-circle to shift back to a human. This way, subjects can still be a weapon while maintaining their lifespan._

_The full-weapon form also has the ability to amplify the Meister’s alchemy. And because it is written in alkahestry, it can also expand the perception of alkahestry users. The Alkahestry shared between them could also help to reverse the hemochromatosis process, which would in turn lengthen the weapon’s lifespan bit-by-bit._

_The counter-circle is coded on the fourth Dragon Path of the music box. It is also needed to destroy the music._

* * *

Maka blinked awake from her stupefied state, hands still gripping the deciphered document in tight fists.

This.

This was her answer.

She didn’t understand the last sentence, but she didn’t give it any attention. She was far more interested in the penultimate one.

She could help Soul.

_She could help Soul!_

Overwhelmed, she just sat there in silence, seeing without looking at the fully-deciphered document. Soul’s hand-written music sheet and the scribbles he made to help her understand the piece stared back at her innocently. Maka gritted her teeth.

But asking to be his meister meant trapping him forever with her. That was basically the same as stripping him of his freedom, because he would be tied to her. What would the good of a stable body be if he couldn’t go anywhere after? Being with her wasn’t exactly the safest place. Not anymore. Or never, really. She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t cage him!

He could just walk away. He could just not transmute anymore. Yes. But something told her that was basically impossible.

Maka held her head and yanked her hair as she bit back a scream. She threw a frustrated glare at the music box.

“Is this the real reason why you sent me to him?!” she spat, but there was no one to answer her. Well, except for the irritated meow somewhere under the table. Maka hissed. “I don’t need this now, Blair.”

The cat replied with an offended hiss, walking away from her, her pumpkin bell chiming with obvious distaste.

_Urgh._ She had to be in too much stress if she started to put emotion into an inanimate object’s sound.

Maka refrained from grinding her teeth, but she took her magnifying glass and started to scrutinize the fourth Dragon Path. For now, only work could numb her thoughts and keep her from being completely crazy.

* * *

Frank N. Stein was never a morning person. He typically said ‘Good Evening’ at 8 AM. So he had the right to grumble when someone knocked his door at the normal human visiting time of 10 AM.

But his irritation slightly faded when he caught sight of his guest.

“Kristopher, good to see you,” Frank greeted his oldest pupil with delight—which meant an obviously fake excited tone and a very flat smile. “Something big must be happening. I got two rare guests in a week.”

Kristopher didn’t say anything except a low ‘Good morning, Professor,’ before he slipped into the house. Frank followed him further into the house, while Kristopher’s Lieutenant kept her position as a lookout. Both of them had worn minimal disguise instead of military uniform, which implied that this was somewhat serious.

Frank decided that he was not going to have a peaceful day. He might need to move his schedule for anatomy research behind. Again.

“So I deduce this is not a casual visit where you tell your professor you miss him, or when you say it has been a long time and you want to catch up over tea,” Frank drawled as he put a cigarette in his mouth. Kristopher didn’t answer, only continuing his silent stride deeper into Frank’s lair.

They had arrived at Frank's library, which was the complete opposite of the neat and orderly book nest in the Albarn mansion. The fact that Kristopher didn’t as much as wince at the room’s disarray spoke volumes about how distracted he was. Frank had partly hoped his pupil would immediately start to tidy the mess the second he walked into the room.

Both of them dropped themselves onto the chairs when Kristopher grimaced, saying, “I apologize for my rude behavior, Professor. I only go to you when I need something.”

Frank waved his hand, signaling that it was okay. It should be clear that he was joking, but sadly other people often thought Frank truly meant the jab in his words. Sadly, not everyone had a fine taste in humor.

“Well? What do you have for me?” Frank droned, puffing out smoke. He was never one to beat around the bush.

Kristopher made an apologizing look again, but eventually produced a book from his coat’s inner pocket, then pulled a folded paper out of said book. He put it on the table for them to examine. It was a map of East City, with an alchemy circle scribbled over it.

Frank let out an interested hum that surely sounded like a dispassionate huff for people who didn’t know him. “Huh,” he commented.

“It’s a human transmutation circle, isn’t it?” Kristopher quaked, voice a little bit wary.

The mad alchemist heard the implied apology in his pupil’s tone. They had never talked about human transmutation since Frank gave a stern lecture about it to Kristopher and Maka. Not because his knowledge was lacking, but rather, because he knew too much.

“It is,” Frank finally confirmed. He stood up, followed by the young Colonel. “Follow me. I have something to show you.”

Frank didn’t realize his mouth was smirking. His fake eye reflected the dim light as he opened his lab door for Kristopher.

It might be worth it to postpone the dissection schedule after all.

* * *

Maka closed her notes with a resounding thud. Blair meowed from somewhere around her ankles.

She had finally gotten the hang of it.

She had broken down everything about the music box and finally finished deciphering the entire document.

There, in front of her, was a half-finished new pair of alkahestry circles she had constructed, specialized to make a bond between a weapon and a meister.

But she hadn’t worked up the courage to tell Soul anything. Hell, she hadn’t even sorted out her mind to give Kid a proper report. She was vibrating with elation at having an effective way to fix Soul, but the fear of ripping him out of his freedom dwarfed it all. She wanted to give him things, not take it from him. He deserved everything. He deserved to be free and happy.

Yet, if she had to be honest, deep inside her heart, she did wish to keep him close to her; something that should be concerning if she had a right mind.

Maka shut her eyes tightly, dropping her head onto the table. She felt disgusted with herself. What was the difference between her and the alchemists who imprisoned Soul and his brother?

These thoughts had tied her in some kind of flurry ever since she first deciphered the second half of her Mama’s music box. She thought she did a great job of concealing all of it, but sometimes she could feel Soul’s silent stares.

Blair climbed onto the table and pawed her cheek, meowing softly.

“You got any advice?” she asked the cat.

Blair replied with a tilt of head and a long meow. Maka smiled despite herself, stroking the soft fur on her pet’s back. “Yeah, you’re always good with words, Blair. Maybe I should take your advice.”

The cat gave her an agreeing purr.

She slumped still in that position for who knew how long, until her stomach reminded her that she needed some actual food.

Even though her initial destination was the kitchen, her feet did a turn to the opposite direction when she heard voices coming from the living room.

She found a shirtless Soul complaining to Kilik about something as the Major helped him redoing the bandage on his chest. A wave of guilt swarmed Maka’s heart when she realized that she had never asked Soul about his injuries. All of her attention was on her project, and for once, Maka was ashamed of her dedication to her work. She had never thought about how painful it was for him to take care of his injuries on his own. It had to be painful enough for him to consider a soldier’s help.

Maka sucked back a sniff. She totally had been acting like an ass to him right when he needed her help the most. 

She scoffed inwardly. _And he said she was worth it._

The wave of guilt suddenly didn’t feel like enough punishment. Maybe she would feel better if Soul had berated her, if he had blamed her, if he had called her out on her vile treatment of him. But she knew he wouldn’t. He would never. Stupid merciful boy with a heart of gold.

“Hey…” he greeted her with a tentative smile.

She gave him a weak smile back. “Hey…” she breathed. “How’s your injuries?”

He gave her a shrug. “Healing well, I guess. Kilik’s doing a good job of helping me.”

“What can I say, I have many talents and I love helping people,” Kilik made himself known. “Besides, Soul is just hopeless.”

“Shut up, Kilik,” the Ishvalan boy shot back.

It was a second too long that she realized they were already on first-name basis. Tilting her head in wonder, she inquired, “Since when had you guys become friends?”

That question might come off as rude to strangers’ ears, but for people who knew Soul, that was a reasonable issue to ask.

Soul was still wearing a flat expression, but Kilik slung Fire over his shoulder and winked. “I was the one who taught him how to ride a motorcycle.”

Not bothering to hold her voice back, Maka screeched, “ _You can ride a motorcycle_?!”

Instead of answering, Soul slapped Kilik’s automail arm, hissing, “I told you to shut up!”

Maka thought it was only Black☆Star who could force his way into Soul’s personal space without him turning into blades, but she had forgotten how Kilik’s easygoing and honest nature could put even the most physically allergic person at ease. He was just pacifying like that.

Ignoring Soul, Kilik continued, “He almost crashed mine, so he had to be satisfied with Sid’s old ride, but yeah, I’m proud to say my disciple has finally mastered the thing.”

Said disciple scowled fiercely while Maka stared between the two boys with mouth forming a little ‘o’. Part of Maka felt happy that Soul had started to make more friends, another part of her felt slightly disagreeing because her Mama had never approved of motorcycles, but a rather big part felt sad because she had missed so much of Soul’s life within the month she turned a blind eye at him.

She must have made a pathetic look because Soul stared at her with a displeased frown. He gathered the first-aid kit into their box and snatched his discarded shirt from the sofa’s headrest, flinging it over his shoulder instead of wearing it properly.

Maka just wanted to open her mouth when her stomach announced her initial intention rather loudly. Kilik politely hid a cackle while Soul did a tiny snort, his eyes partly shined into a lighter color. Maka didn’t know if she could produce smoke from her ears as she was reminded about the same occurrence in Death City a millenia ago.

“I’ll make you something,” Soul stated, already standing.

“You don’t have to always do this, you know,” Maka debated, trying to save the tiny little piece of dignity she had left. A futile attempt. Her face was still hot.

Soul tilted his head and made an impassive look. “‘S okay. I like cooking.” He took the first aid kit box and shrugged. “Besides, Tsubaki gave me an easy and awesome soup recipe and I wanna try that.”

Maka just stared helplessly as he whistled his way to the kitchen. Kilik coughed. Something about the tone of his cough irritated Maka, so she barked, “What?”

“Patty was right. He _is_ your house-husband.”

Maka’s eyes flared in shock and embarrassment. “He is not my house-husband!” she shrieked. “What is wrong with all of you?!”

The damn Major threw his head back as he cackled loudly. Jerk. She shouldn’t be too hasty by deciding that Kilik was nice. She had to remember that he was of the same species as Black☆Star: annoying big brother figures.

But when his laughs died down, Maka’s mind had already wandered to their previous conversation. An idea popped inside her head. She didn’t know if it was a good idea. A little bit of her was afraid that Soul would take it the wrong way, but anyway, she squared up her shoulders and leaned to the soldier.

“Kilik, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

Maka pressed her lips nervously, stealing a peek at the direction Soul had vanished earlier. Her skepticism towards this thing she wanted to ask was mostly because her Mama’s disdain towards it. But Soul seemed to like it so much, and she needed to properly show how much she wanted to thank him for all he’d done, so she casted aside her anxiousness and embarrassment as she braved herself to blurt at Kilik:

“Do you know where to buy motorcycles?”

* * *

One thing Maka was sure of was that Soul definitely had a talent for cooking.

The mushroom soup he made her was absolutely delicious, and that was his first attempt at it. Prodigies were real, it looked like. She had never made a soup that delicious despite having followed the same recipe down to a T. Maka tried to hide her jealousy as he collected her empty bowl while whistling, completely unaware of her grudge. 

The boy started to wash the dishes while absent-mindedly humming the same foreign melody he always whistled. Seeing that was somehow nonplussing. Something about seeing his back just bugged Maka so much.

Maybe because he hadn’t worn his shirt.

Yet she knew her actual reason was not because stupid things like embarrassment from seeing a boy’s body, but because of how seemingly fine he was not. She had to tear her attention away from his bandages, lest her guilt creep and drown her again. It also didn’t help that she could see numerous scars on him, with some obviously shaped like surgical wounds.

Needless to say, her mind flew back to the partially complete circles in her library. It was unknown what prompted her, but she opened her mouth and called, “Soul?”

He twisted his head at her, placing the last plate on the drying rack. “Yeah?”

“Sit down,” she implored. “Please.”

Drying his hands on a hand towel, he walked closer and sat on the chair in front of her, giving her a questioning and a slightly worried look. “What’s wrong? You okay?”

Maka couldn’t help her weary smile. This boy, really. “Yeah, I’m okay,” she started, but after a long pause and many shaky breaths, she corrected herself, “...Or not so much.”

His frown deepened, as if saying ‘I knew it.’ Exhaling a breath, he mumbled, “I know you’ve been acting weird.”

As if being caught, her fingers did a little twitch. But Maka feigned innocence and bit her lower lip. “I need to ask you something.”

“Go on,” he answered almost automatically.

She struggled to form her words. Most of her brain was still against telling him. Soul’s cries when he lost his mind in that broken church were back in her ears, and she felt horrible for trying to take his freedom away.

“Just spill it, Maka,” he pushed gently, nudging her hand on the table, and she pursed her lips into an anxious flat line.

“The thing is…” she finally mumbled, “I found something… In that music box, I mean…”

Soul didn’t make any reaction except for slightly pulling his fist away.

“I think this can help you. To help you maintain your health at least.” Maka started her long explanation about the theories and the system behind the bonding circles. He was silent the entire time, so Maka soldiered on, “By bonding us via alkahestry, I could wield you as my weapon without you doing any transmutation yourself, so you could maintain your Blood’s energy longer. And—and my alkahestry could help you restore the amount of iron in your body bit by bit. I know this is not precisely a way to fix you, but at least, it could help in the long run, and you could—technically you could still protect me… By being my weapon, I mean… You’ve seen yourself how—how strong we got when I wielded you so…”

“So basically you’re stuck with me,” he interrupted her. “Forever.”

Maka stopped and raised her eyes to see him making a displeased face. Of course. Of course he wouldn’t like it. And frankly, who would? It was one thing to swear an oath out of his own will, but it was a totally different thing to tie him up with an artificial chain.

Despite his strange devotion and vow, Soul had never stated he would go with her forever. No matter what he said, his first and foremost reason was because of her Mama’s extended request. He was by no means obligated to be with her forever.

“I want to help you,” was all she said.

“But you will be stuck with me,” he repeated. “Forever.”

“I’m willing to, if you’re willing to,” Maka replied, looking him in the eyes.

Something that was certainly the opposite of willingness radiated from his entire body, and Maka felt something in her heart crumble.

“Just… Just think about it…” she nearly begged. Honestly, she didn’t know which answer she’d prefer. But nonetheless. “I’ll just… keep working on the circles and you… you think about it. Please.”

He didn’t give any answer besides an unreadable emotion displayed sternly on his face.

* * *

Frank stared at his lab partner with incredulity.

“I thought we’ve established that we’re devoting our lives to science, Kamiko. Not sorcery.”

Kamiko’s stern face didn’t waver. “You of all people should believe that this is not sorcery.”

Frank replied, “Yeah, maybe it’s not sorcery, but the impossibility level stays the same.”

Kamiko’s black eyes drilled into his. His left one. “Really?”

For once, Frank’s skepticism trembled. His lab partner was stubborn and was often known for her out-of-the-box thinking, but she was never one to believe in superstition or sorcery. _It’s never magic_ , she always said, _human brains just can’t understand it yet_. That meant she had found scientific proof to be able to believe the impossible.

“Why are you doing this? We both know too well the consequences if we step into God’s domain,” Frank inquired. Lights bounced off his glasses to his eyes, making one shine and the other dull.

“Do I need a reason to rid the world of harm?” she challenged. But Frank just scoffed.

“Stop your acting. You never care about the world.” Which was a true statement, no matter how much praise and worship were sung about Kamiko’s noble nature. Maybe that was why they could be such an effective team. She was the only one who could match his cynicism.

She made a little cold smile. “Maybe I didn’t. But I do have people I want to protect.”

At this, Frank softened. “Maka?”

“I’m just trying to make her a safer place to call home, since I can’t take her anywhere,” Kamiko muttered lowly. “Take care of her, Frank.”

He dodged the request. “What about Spirit?”

Kamiko’s face instantly went from pleading to intense displeasure. “Spirit just doesn’t understand! He just can’t comprehend that I have to do this! ”

Again, Frank refused to comment by agreeing to her earlier request. “I’ll take care of her.”

Kamiko didn’t say thanks. Both of them had never. She just smoothed her face back into its usual coldness and replied, “I’ll hold your words.”

Inhaling through his cigarette, Frank muttered, “So what about the homunculus again?”

She opened her mouth, but instead of explaining, she called his name.

“Frank!”

But that was definitely not Kamiko’s voice.

“Frank, come on! Stop sleeping with your eyes open!”

Frank’s eyes focused, bringing him out of daydream land and back into the present. He was, apparently, still at his library, in his chair, in the same position he was an hour ago, and Marie was currently pouting at him, both hands on her hips. He hadn’t even heard her come in.

“Good evening, Marie,” he rasped, ignoring the urge to rub his eyes.

“It’s 8.30 AM.” She let out a disbelieving huff. “Seriously, Frank, you need to have a decent sleep schedule!”

As always, Frank ignored her concerns. He was more suited to be a nocturnal creature anyway. “Why’re you here?”

She was in her military uniform, which implied she was not off duty and she didn’t visit him for fun. Marie sighed, “If I don’t know you as well as I do, I’d say you’re displeased to see your own girlfriend.”

Her mouth did a little pout that put a smirk on Frank’s face. The way she expressed her emotion through an entire body language was always amusing to observe.

Receiving no answer, Marie huffed and put a document in front of him. “From Kristopher.”

Frank almost immediately reached for it and tore through the papers like a child tearing the wrappers of their Christmas presents. It was, apparently, a complete report about the document Maka had worked out of Kamiko’s music box.

“What is it, Frank?” Marie asked, leaning into him. But instead of answering, he hastily pulled a sheet of paper out of his drawer, which had nothing on it except for two things: the word ‘homunculus’ and the letter ‘M.’

It would mean nothing if not for the fact that it was the last code slipped inside the music sheet Spirit had brought some weeks before.

A glimpse of something flashed through Frank’s face, a touch too disturbing to be called astonishment.

“You found them after all, didn’t you, Kamiko?”

* * *

“Stay still, Eruka,” Pride purred.

The chimera woman strapped onto the gurney did everything but stay still, however, and Pride gave her a displeased look. She didn’t like test subjects that kept trashing about.

“Medusa! No, no! Please! Please! I beg you, no!”

Pride’s lips turned upwards, her voice comparable to a mother’s lullaby. “But why, Eruka? With this, you can be an immortal too.”

But the chimera shook her head violently. “I don’t want it! I DON’T WANT IT!!!”

Her trashing nearly shoved the vial out of Pride’s hands, and Pride’s face turned from a benevolent smile into a dark calmness.

Enough.

Quicker than a heartbeat, Pride’s shadows stood alive, surrounding them like a dark and menacing tent. Two arrows slithered up to Eruka’s body, and Pride watched with amusement when they pulled Eruka’s jaw open with a resounding crack, accompanied by the chimera woman’s hysteric shriek.

“That’s better,” commented Pride.

She took out the vial again, and slowly poured the single drop of red liquid inside it into Eruka’s mouth.

The hysteric shrieking became borderline unhinged almost immediately, filling the room with deranged echoes as the woman’s body kept deconstructing and reconstructing. Pride smiled as she stroked the screaming woman’s forehead gently. Ah. What a totally beautiful sound.

Soon, the cries died down, replaced by choked gasps and hard breathing. It was then when frantic steps echoed from behind her, followed by an angry yell:

“YOU GAVE YOUR STONE TO HER?!” thundered Nars Garnier. “I ASKED YOU FOR IT SO MANY TIMES, AND YOU DECLINED! YET YOU GAVE IT TO TRASH LIKE THIS THING?!” The alchemist pointed at the choking chimera on the gurney with fury.

“HOW DARE YOU!! HOW DARE YOU!! YOU KNOW EVERYTHING I DID FOR US!! FOR YOU!! YOU KNOW I DESERVE IT!!!” he continued his accusations.

Instead of giving him attention, Pride turned without care to see two of her shadow snakes slithering up to her. She spread her arms and let the snakes climb onto each of them, then shut her eyes as they hissed into her ears.

_Oh?_

Pride let out an intrigued hum. The Little Grigori and the Little Reaper had almost known all about her plan. She chuckled. Good for them.

“LISTEN TO ME YOU LOWLY HOMUNCULUS!! I WILL—”

The angry alchemist’s irritating tirade was instantly snapped shut by a giant mouth made from Pride’s shadow.

She should’ve done this a long time ago. Keeping the man alive was certainly far too much work. She should’ve just consumed the man, keeping all of his knowledge to herself.

Ah. Now it was quiet.

Pride stared at the unmoving Eruka. Those little kids may have found out about her plans, but there was nothing they could do to stop them. Her back-up was set, and she was beyond ecstatic.

Her eyes trailed along the two serpents tattooed on each of her arms.

She was not born with an Ouroboros tattoo like her siblings. She was not born as a part of the cycle of souls. Instead of a serpent eating their own tail, she had serpents encircling the length or her arms.

She was not meant to be a part of the circle. She was meant to _hold_ the circle.

She was born to be the highest.

Three shadow snakes branched out of her shadow before releasing themselves, slithering to three different directions.

It would be her time soon. The niceties were over. It was time to remind everyone she still had fangs. With venom.

* * *

Soul had wondered about it multiple times, but he really thought that Wes would probably be as delighted as him if he had been given the chance to learn an instrument.

Something told him Wes wouldn’t choose a piano. Maybe something like a stringed instrument.

Like a violin. Yeah, it would fit him.

It was delighting to think about a piece and imagine they could play it together.

_‘Well, you have to learn some alchemy and transmute him out of his grave first.’_

Soul’s fingers stopped, hovering above the piano keys as he closed his eyes and exhaled a heavy breath. As always, his Demon was really charming. He breathed again. Slowly. Remember, remember. The Art of Not Giving A Fuck.

To distract himself from the endearing comments of his Demon, Soul started to hum Wes’s song and tried to translate it into a piano piece.

“Soul.”

He tore his attention away from the piano keys and his brain’s stupid freeloader to find Maka standing beside him with an expectant face.

“Hmm?”

She pursed her lips and made a motion that was suspiciously close to squirming. Soul raised a brow. She’d been acting weird—both of them had, because Soul admitted he was kinda wary of her whenever she gave a signal of wanting to talk—since she found out about the truth of his ability, and they got even weirder since her proposal in her kitchen. But he had an inkling that this was something totally different.

“Could you… umm, follow me for a sec?” she mumbled while staring intently at one particular spot on the upright piano.

His bizarre meter kept going up. He might be imagining her blush. “Uh, where?”

“Just—just follow me!” she squeaked. Without warning, she yanked him standing by his wrist and started pulling him out of the house. “I—um, I wanna give you something. I promise you will like this,” was all she said when he fruitlessly tried to coax a definite answer out of her.

When they arrived at the front yard, all confusion and puzzlement flew apart from his brain, because one impossibly gorgeous motorcycle that was parked handsomely on the pavement stole all of his attention.

“Whoa, what the—!” Soul gawked at the shiny monstrosity in front of them. _“What is this?!”_

Now seeing his reaction, Maka didn’t even bother to hide her grin. “Your new motorcycle!”

He stared at her like she was the sun. “Who are you and what have you done to Maka?”

“Say that one more time and I’ll transmute this thing into a tricycle with tassels.”

Still grinning dumbly, Soul chuckled, “No, honestly, what happened? I thought you hated them!”

There was a tint on her cheekbones that might or might not be a reflection of the bike’s red paint. “But you like them. And it could be more convenient when we travel.”

“Did I unknowingly decipher all of your documents in my sleep?” he mumbled in astonishment.

“You kinda did,” she laughed. “It’s my gratitude to you for helping me decipher Mama’s code. And—and for saving my life,” she added with a slightly tinier voice, speaking to her shoes.

Soul’s face changed to a serious frown, disagreeing, “Maka, I _promised_ to protect you.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I wanted to.”

“But this thing must cost you a lot.”

“True.”

“Then I have to—”

“Shut up, Soul,” Maka interrupted, shoving the key to his hand. “It’s yours now.”

Soul had forgotten when was the last time he felt this ecstatic. He felt like he could kiss her. Only a figure of speech, of course. Sort of. He looked at her dazedly as she gave him the biggest smile. This was the coolest thing he had ever seen. And it was _his???_ Fuck, he was too happy, even his insides were fluttering as if they were made of butterflies. It took everything in him to not jump to her side and shower her with kisses and hugs.

Okay, since when had he become so clingy?

_‘Gross.’_

_‘Figure of speech, dammit.’_

To distract his thoughts from any sort of clinginess, he decided to adore his new ride closer. Black dominated the bike’s color, but there were very cool orange patterns zig-zagged on each side. It was a painfully beautiful thing. He could cry.

It was when he turned to caress the handlebar that he heard a very tiny voice:

“You’ll look pretty cool riding it.”

He spun back to see a very red Maka stammering away. “O-okay then, enjoy your new ride. I’ll just go back to—to the library, yeah… Must go back to work, so—”

She was stopped by his hand on her wrist. Soul couldn’t help the toothy grin as he pulled her closer, insinuating, “Hey, Maka, I know a better way to spend your evening.”

* * *

“Maka?”

Maka yelled over the loud engine, “Yeah?”

“Why is there a cat on my new bike, again?”

A tiny head full of fur popped between her and Soul, answering his question with a mischievous meow. Maka giggled, “Apparently Blair declared that your new bike is a worthy ride for the Queen of Underworld.”

“Of course she did,” Soul made a loud scoffing noise, but his bike’s roar drowned it.

They were gliding across Gallows Hill's quiet roads on high speed and Maka was beyond ecstatic. Frankly, she had fallen in love with the adrenaline rush brought by the bike’s speed. She wanted to stand on the passenger seat, hands propped on Soul's shoulders, and just scream her excitement to the wind, but she thought having her hands hugging Soul's middle was also acceptable. Very acceptable, if she was being honest. So she kept sitting like a good girl.

Most of her wondered why Mama was so against this thing, because it was beyond amazing. This was definitely far more superior than trains. 

She wouldn't tell Soul all of that, though.

Soul took them into the less familiar roads of the town, where there were no inhabited houses for miles and no soul floated around them. He skidded to a stop before the old remains of what used to be Gallows Hill's watchtower; one of the few buildings their town had as a reminder of the wartimes.

Blair was the first to jump off the bike and strutted all over the ruins as if she owned the place, but Soul was apparently as confident when he led her stepping into the ruins and climbing the old watchtower.

“You've been here before?”

He gave her a toothy grin. “Had to go somewhere to make sure I could drive just fine.”

She just replied with an acknowledging hum. Her feet almost slipped on the tower's moss-covered stairs, but Soul swiftly caught her arms.

“Careful,” he mumbled, and then he silently offered a hand.

Maka denied her blush. They had held hands many times before. She shouldn't feel embarrassed. So she took his hands and they resumed their climbing.

Blair was already there when they arrived at the top of the watchtower. Of course. She meowed at them as if asking what took them so long. Maka rolled her eyes at her pet. Sometimes the cat was just too smug.

Okay, oftentimes.

Soul successfully ignored Blair's antics, however, having already picked a nice spot to sit at the edge of a ruined windowsill, then motioned for her to do the same. Maka followed his example and plopped down beside him.

The grand scenery presented before her made her suck a sharp breath while Soul wore a triumphant smirk, seemed so proud to be able to astonish her.

The entire of Gallows Hill’s little town was visible underneath them, the rural areas and the dark forests around the hill framing the picture astoundingly. The sky was still light when they entered the watchtower, but now it had turned completely dark, presenting the Milky Way above the town in all its glory.

It was just beyond breathtaking.

“How come I've never known about this place?! I've lived here since birth!” she shouted.

Soul chortled, “That's what happens when you barricade yourself within bookshelves for all your life.”

She kicked his leg and his chuckles doubled. Blair had scooted closer and closer for the past five minutes, and now she finally invaded Maka's lap, stretching her body and yawning cutely. Maka stroked her fluffy back.

“Thanks for bringing me here, Soul! This is so beautiful!”

He dipped his head down, seeming a little bashful. “You need a break once in a while,” he told her.

Maka couldn’t help her smile. Ah yes. He was indeed such a gentle soul.

She wanted to reach his head and ruffle his hair, but she refrained the urge, diverting her impulse to pet Blair instead.

Soul shifted his position, now letting his feet dangle off the edge of the building. He started to hum his usual foreign song—something he seemed to do absent-mindedly, and Maka felt so mesmerized by how ethereal he looked under the winter stars.

“Soul,” said her voice. She didn't know what came into her. It was a spur of the moment, but seeing him like that brought an intense urge inside her; to keep that beautiful picture of a boy humming under a starry sky at her side forever.

He turned at her with a questioning look, something deep flashing on his eyes, but not that Maka had the calmness to see that. Her blood rush was like a raging river as she said her request with a surprisingly even tone:

“Let me be your meister.”

* * *

Soul was generally very content with his current situation.

He now owned a ridiculously cool bike, was currently seeing a ridiculously breathtaking scenery, and had a ridiculously pretty girl sitting beside him.

Uh. Okay, maybe he should have edited his last thought out of his head, because he didn't want to imply that they were on a date or something like that. He felt that it was inappropriate to ask a filthy-rich genius girl out on a date after she bought him a bike.

So he just distracted himself by imagining how Wes would react if he was here with him. His life had been so surreal these past five months, and part of him was aching to tell Wes everything. He'd gone back to Amestris. He'd gone to Mrs. Kamiko’s house. He’d even visited her grave. And most importantly, he had met Maka.

The little faceless girl. Who wasn't little nor faceless anymore.

Wes would be beyond ecstatic, he guessed. Maybe would marvel in the prospect of having a little sister to dote on, like Soul had thought since many a year ago in the darker lifetime. But weirdly, he wasn't as put off by the thought as he was before. Rather, he thought both of them would have the same feelings of wanting to protect and cherish Maka, somehow.

_“She’s impossible to not adore, you will see when you meet her!”_

Soul inwardly waved off the echo of Mrs. Kamiko's voice. He was pretty sure he wasn't on the adore level. Maka was just so likable because of her kind nature, no matter how violent or bratty she might come off. In his mind, she was the same creature as Mrs. Kamiko.

A savior.

Yeah.

He was pretty sure Wes would agree.

Thinking about Wes made Soul unknowingly hum his song again, as always.

As he stared at the star Wezen among the Canis Major, he dearly hoped Wes knew how much he missed him.

“Soul.”

Maka's voice snapped him back to earth. He turned to find her looking at him with a strange determined expression. The back of his mind tried to tell him that this wasn't something he would like, but he couldn't say anything. The intensity of her eyes locked him in place.

“Let me be your meister.”

Two things happened inside him. One, his entire body felt stabbed by those words. And two, his Demon condescendingly scoffed with a triumphant tone.

_‘What did I say? She just wants to own you. She doesn't care about someone like you at all, boy. She just wants a weapon that could strengthen her power. All of her tears, her words, all of them were just lies!’_

But unfortunately for the Demon, the scaldingly painful feeling in his heart was stronger. Far stronger. It numbed him out of everything except the vast green of her eyes.

He knew how painfully kind this girl was. He knew that her choice to wield him was because she wanted to help him. That she just wanted to fix him.

She was just like that. So ridiculously kind. Even kinder than her mother.

But still. He didn't want this.

He wanted to protect her. All of her. He didn't want to be her burden. He wanted to be her sword and shield, not a chain to tie her down.

This was his greatest reason for avoiding her request. Being his meister would give her a new responsibility. Or a liability, more precisely. Having him with her would mean she wouldn’t be as free. She was a State Alchemist. A brilliant one. She was supposed to spread her wings and get all the acknowledgements she deserved. But that was hardly possible if she had an Ishvalan chained to her side.

Furthermore, what if she found a person she wanted to be with? What if she wanted to start a new family?

He would be there. Forever a weight to hold her back.

He couldn’t make her do that. He wouldn’t.

So he steeled himself and firmly stated, “No.”

Her eyes dulled into a more somber shade, and Soul hated himself for causing that. But it had to be done.

“Soul, please…”

“I can’t make you do this, Maka. I won’t let you be chained to me forever. I can’t…” he pleaded.

Part of him expected her to explode into an outburst, but in reverse, she dipped her face low and started to tremble, as if forcing herself to stay composed.

“I know you don’t want someone like me tied to you. I know I—I’m not a nice person. I’m stubborn, and I’m—I’m violent… impulsive… and I’m boring… But… But I want to help you, Soul. I want to fix you… I know I’m not someone you’d want to spend a lifetime with but… I want to fix you...”

Soul’s mind spiraled into confusion. “Wait—what? No! I… When did I say that I don’t like the idea of—of being tied to _you!_ That is just ridiculous! The reason I don’t want to do this is that I don’t want you to be burdened by _me!_ You’re—you’re definitely not the reason I—urgh…” 

She blinked at him, completely perplexed, but Soul was in too much exasperation to notice. How could she think that _she_ was the problem here? For someone so smart, she was so dumb. Couldn’t she see that he would literally be beyond euphoric if he was told he could be at her side forever?

He ran his fingers through his hair. His frustration made his voice rise. “It’s me! I’m the problem! I’m an Ishvalan and a human weapon, Maka! I have wicked blood and my mind is always an inch away from insanity—I… I’m literally someone you _would_ mind to spend a lifetime with! You never were! I don’t mind spending forever by your side—uh… I mean...” he trailed off, stopping dead, immediately berating himself for blabbering especially dumb things.

God. When would he learn to not be gross and just speak like a normal human being?

But Maka paid no attention to his embarrassing words (he had no idea whether to be glad or disappointed, but he chose to not think about it further), and immediately frowned. “I already said it, Soul. Multiple times. You’re not a weapon. You're a person. A good person. And you're worth it! You deserve to be happy!” she insisted.

“I’m…” he was at a loss for words. Sometimes she was just so fucking stubborn; even more so than her mother. He just wanted to help her make a sane decision here, for god’s sake! “You… you deserve to be happy too, Maka. Like you said, being bonded with me would mean you would have to stay with me forever! You—you can’t do that to yourself! I’m just… I’m a stranger, Maka! I—”

“A stranger who had almost sacrificed his life to save me,” she interrupted. “Listen, Soul, I am twenty years old. I might not look like it but I’ve traveled to many places and met many people. I’m perfectly capable of making my own decision. And I decided that I would help you.”

She placed her hands on his chest like how she did in BJ’s inn, and exactly like that time, Soul prayed she didn’t realize his quickening heart rate or his sharp intake of breath.

“Your soul is so pure,” she repeated the same words from that time. “You are a very kind person, but your concern is always so ridiculous. I had never thought that you are a burden. Well... Maybe when we first met but—but now, you’re the furthest thing from a burden. You’re someone worth saving. You’re someone _I_ want to save. I _want_ to be your meister.”

Soul gawked at her as if she was an angel who descended to earth to care and nurse a wounded, ugly, and grotesque hound with her bare hands. Which was not far from the truth.

“But, Maka, I’m—”

“You’ve let me be your emotional support. Now let me take it a step further,” she cut him off again. Leaning in, she fixed her impossibly green eyes at his red ones and he had trouble breathing because he was just so fucking enthralled.

Her words nullified the world from his view. All he saw was green.

“I also don’t mind forever if it’s with you.”

The existence of a person this kind and selfless was unthinkable for him. Yet here she was. Somewhere in his mind he questioned if Mrs. Kamiko knew this would happen when he met Maka. Did she know that Maka would make the choice to save him without hesitation?

Of course. Of course she had known.

Without his knowing, Maka had taken a large part of his life and made it hers.

They just knew each other for a little over five months, but all the things they experienced and all the overwhelming feelings they felt made it feel like a lifetime. 

“So would you let me be your meister?” she prompted again.

This time, Soul couldn't find it in him to refuse. So, while trying his best to keep his eyes dry, he nodded.

* * *

A week later found Maka in Black☆Star’s workshop, fidgeting as she thought about how to ask her brother for some help.

“Black☆Star.”

Her brother twisted his body at her, a completely fake shock on his face.

“Oh my god, she actually goes out of her book nest!”

She scowled fiercely. “Shut up!”

But Maka just stood there awkwardly, not knowing how to ask him without sounding too desperate. Black☆Star, however, just gave her an examining look with one eyebrow rising before abandoning his work and fully turning to her. “Okay, what’d you need?”

Maka ignored the rising heat in her cheeks. Things were worse because the amount of times Maka asked Black☆Star for a favor could be counted on her fingers. It wasn’t her fault she was a very independent girl.

Black☆Star just looked unimpressed. “I rephrase my question: Whose body do I need to hide?”

Maka squeaked, “What?! No! I wasn’t gonna ask you that! Why would I-nevermind!”

He propped his rear on his working table and swayed a screw at her. “You look so ridiculously anxious and fidgety. I’m just making a rational conclusion.”

She was just gonna open her mouth to argue, but then she reminded herself that she had more important things to do than argue with Black☆Star. So she schooled her face and tried again: “Black☆Star, you still have your tattoo kit, right?”

At this, Black☆Star left his joking mode and started to look piqued. “Yeah, why?”

Maka produced two papers out of her pocket and placed them beside him. Her brother opened it and sent her a questioning look. They were the complete alkahestry-alchemy circles she had finished. One for Soul and one for her.

“What’s this?”

Maka dodged the question, “I need you to ink it on me and Soul.” 

“Yeah, but what is this?” Black☆Star repeated. His eyes shifted into that sharp inquiring glare he always had when demanding explanation, and Maka damned herself for being so weak against them.

So of course she started to spill everything she had cracked out of that tiny music box. She spilled all from Soul’s actual condition to the vow she made to herself that she would fix him. Black☆Star didn’t say anything and just listened in silence, something that would have made her anxious if she had the mind to worry.

“But why ink it on your palms too?” was the only question he gave her after she finished. “You can just embroider it on your gloves like you always did, right?”

Maka’s eyes trailed away, body shifting slightly as she struggled to answer. “That’s… because… because I want to stress my seriousness. That I take this bond as seriously as he would, you know?”

Her brother tilted his head. “No, I don’t.”

She sighed, irritation seeping into her tone again, “I mean I want to show how gravely serious I am with this commitment! That bond, however you see it, wasn’t balanced! He has his life on the line but technically I could just walk away whenever I want to, you know? That is just unfair! I want the proof of the bond on my skin so I can show him I won’t go anywhere!”

Betraying her expectation, Black☆Star actually smiled instead of teasing her like he would certainly do if things were less weird. “You always act so serious at the dumbest things,” he told her.

Maka punched him and he dodged easily. Of course. Asshole. But when she tried to punch him again, he caught her fists and said, “You sure about this? This is a pretty big deal, y’know?” He had a smirk on, but his eyes said he was serious.

Maka fixed her own sharp eyes on his and replied with unshakable firmness: “Yes.”

Black☆Star’s smirk grew. “‘Kay, then, gonna dig out the kit from somewhere in the basement. Hope they’re still good. Haven’t used it since I did Dad’s tattoo a few years ago!”

He reached to ruffle her hair as she yelped, trying to weasel herself away. And that was the moment where Maka caught the strange look on his eyes: something that might be close to proudness, if she dared to guess. That made her stop without knowing.

Despite claiming that they were the other’s siblings, Maka and Black☆Star both had difficulties speaking about feelings. They both preferred to speak through quarrels and fights. So seeing him giving her a genuine smile like a proud older brother sent a strange feeling into her gut.

The weird atmosphere was dissolved by a loud clang behind them, which was apparently caused by Blair trying to climb onto Black☆Star’s storage shelves.

“For the love of Double Chocolate Chip Cookies, Maka, get your stupid cat out of my workshop!” Black☆Star yelled. Tsubaki hurried inside to inspect the noise, only to find her husband trying to banish the mischievous cat away from his precious automail spare parts. 

With a meowing Blair in her arms, Maka scooted closer to the wife and whispered, “Uh, why did he swear like that?”

Tsubaki kindly explained, “He’s trying to watch his language as a preparation when the little one comes.”

Maka thought there was something wrong with her brother’s priority, but it was so stupidly similar to the nonsense he would do, so she didn’t comment.

* * *

Maka had to repeatedly tell herself to blink and school her look because she kept doing weird faces when she saw Black☆Star inking Soul’s back.

His bandages had come off a week ago and Aunt Myra finally deemed him good enough to receive a tattoo. Maka’s tattoos were finished in a session, but Soul’s took longer, because while it was similar to a tribal tattoo, his design was far bigger and more complicated than hers, almost covering his entire back.

Normally, she would get the hell out of the room with a melting face when presented with a Soul in just a pair of tight black boxers (damn boy looked sinfully good in them). But she had to brave through and supervise the entire process so she could direct Black☆Star to do a precisely correct design. It was truly a blessing and a curse.

A blessing, because she could see what years of hard life had done to Soul. He was lean and slender in build, but under his clothes were an impressive set of packed and sturdy muscles, visibly far stronger and solid than an average man. Maybe it was because of his being a human weapon, but he was actually almost similar to Black☆Star despite their differing body types; they just looked simply indestructible.

A curse, because as she could see almost everything, she could also see his surgical scars clearer, with no bandages covering him anymore. She almost made a mistake by sucking a shocked breath when he took off his shirt to reveal a bold, distracting, long surgical scar that ran diagonally from his left collarbone to his right hip bone.

Thankfully, Black☆Star told him to lay on his stomach and blissfully rid Maka of the disturbing sight. She had suspicions that Soul had realized her souring mood, because he kept distracting her with teasings and banters the whole time.

“‘Kay. We’re finished for today!” Black☆Star announced loudly, sending Maka back to the present. “One more session and it’s done!”

Maka raised her face to see Soul inspecting his back in a mirror. He poked his skin, which was still red from the needles. Then he twisted his body into a particular pose that did very interesting things to his back muscles, and Maka felt her cheeks warming.

Unfortunately, Soul caught her expression, and a red alarm went off inside Maka’s brain as his lips turned into a cheeky grin. “Do I look cool?” he playfully teased, showing off his back and wiggling his eyebrows.

Ah, yes. She had forgotten that Soul could be very vexatious when he was being smug.

“Truly the essence of badassery,” Maka told him with a flat tone. She wouldn’t tell him that it _did_ make him look cool.

It appeared that he wasn’t fooled by her flat tone, or maybe it was just the heat on her face that had betrayed her thoughts, because Soul’s grin widened as he leaned closer.

“Reeeally?”

Her irritation level climbed along with the temperature of her face. Okay. It was impertinent how a boy so amusingly shy could sometimes be this vexingly flirtatious. Maka had just decided he deserved a good punch when something made her freeze.

Oh no, he had dimples.

“Holy mother of Roasted Beef in Black Pepper Sauce! Get your disgusting smushy rom-com asses a room!” Black☆Star’s yell filled the room, bringing to their attention the very unimpressed face her brother was making.

Maka was a shade away from blushing violently and a touch shy from connecting her fist with Black☆Star’s face. But to her surprise, it was Soul who answered, “You do realize you make the same face to Tsubaki twenty-four-seven, right?”

“We did it with _godliness_!”

Without missing a beat, Soul deadpanned, “And we did it with _style_ , now scram.”

He said it without any emotion whatsoever, but there were light tints on his ears that might or might not be coming from the setting sun filtered by the window. Maka wondered if her face was also as red.

Did he really just imply what she thought it was?

Maka stopped her own thought. No. No, no, no, no, no, no. Couldn’t be. This was Soul; the most nonsensical combination of an awkward feral human and a shy stray puppy imaginable.

He could be flirty, yes, but never in a thousand years would he even consider the idea of… of… of _that_ kinda flirting. Yep. Definitely a nope.

Despite telling her brother to scram, it was Soul who did. He took her wrist and led her through the kitchen to the back field. Her expression must have given her astonishment away because Soul suddenly spouted with the blush still layering his face: “What?”

“Nothing.” She stole a glance at him once before blurting, desperate to steer her thoughts away, “You just seem to be so awfully friendly with him.”

He looked like he was considering his answer before shrugging. “He’s a good guy.”

Coming from Soul, who was generally paranoid and distrustful, that was saying something.

He was indeed (somewhat) friendly with the automail engineer. Far more so than any other people they’d met since they went back to Amestris. She knew he had built some friendships, but something told her he was somehow closer to Black☆Star.

She admitted she had felt a tiny bubble of worry when Soul first met her brother, because even though she knew Black☆Star was the farthest thing from his legacy, Soul was still an Ishvalan, and it could build an eternal wall between them.

But what she was afraid of didn’t come true. Someone could even say that Black☆Star and Soul had known each other for years when they saw them together. Something had to have happened between them within the dreaded month she closed herself off of him, but she supposed it was a good thing, so she casted away her less than joyful thoughts and smiled.

Because after months of travelling together, Maka had discovered many layers Soul would choose when dealing with people. The outermost was to be openly aggressive and distancing himself as far as he could. The second layer was to be timidly awkward, indicating he trusted the person to some degree but was wary to socialize. The third was to casually throw sarcastic insults and snide remarks without care, sometimes accompanied with his trademark lopsided grin, indicating that he was comfortable enough to be himself and just relax.

It was not after a couple of hours later, when they were just lazing around in Black☆Star’s sparring field as he casually taught her Ishvalan words, that Maka suddenly realized: his most genuine way to treat people, however, was to be the nervous boy who tried his best in voicing his thoughts despite his trouble in speaking; a side he’d never showed to anyone but her.

Soul had never really tried to distance himself from her since the very beginning. He outright jumped to the innermost level without hesitation.

She was _his_ anomaly, just like he was hers.

* * *

“Excuse me, Sir, I have the report for—”

Kid stopped midway from entering Major General Albarn’s office, where he found his superior having a seemingly important meeting with Major Yumi and Captain Law.

“My apology, Sir. I didn’t know you were having a meeting.”

The Major General lightly shook his head and nodded at him to come closer. Kid walked after giving a respectful nod to the older soldiers. On top of Major General’s desk was the blueprint of a building, and Kid’s red alarm went off somewhere in his head.

There was nothing betraying his surprise except for the slight widening of his eyes. “Sir, is this the location you had found together with Professor Stein?”

His superior grumbled, “Of course he told you. That asshole.” But then he was back on his serious tone. “I suppose you know about this, then?” Kid nodded. “Did you tell Maka anything?”

A little confused, Kid replied, “I… didn’t, Sir. Am I not supposed to?”

His superior was silent for a long while, before he finally sighed and put his fingers between his eyes. “No. You’re not.”

“Sir, I still think it’s better to at least tell her where are we going—”

“No, Major,” the General interrupted Major Yumi. The Major didn’t look troubled at all, nor did she radiate an air of argument, but her cold eyes told Kid she certainly wanted to. Major General Albarn dictated, “The decision to tell my daughter is mine. I forbid all of you to say anything.”

His unsettling tone discouraged Kid from his initial purpose. He had been wanting to tell the Major General about the city’s Human Transmutation Circle, but it was as what his Professor said: the chance for him to listen was fairly low. His Professor had warned against telling General Albarn outright. At least not without a proper proof and a counter-plan, or to tell it in a way that made it impossible to be ignored.

Because when he had a goal set in front of him, Spirit Albarn wouldn’t listen to anything. That was a troublesome trait he shared with his daughter.

Kid had hoped he could somehow get his superior to believe this, but compared to the exact location and date the Major General had, Kid had no actual proof that the circle really existed.

So instead of telling his superior about his disturbing finding, Kid asked, “Do you plan to go at the 21st after all, Sir? To raid the place?”

“Yeah.” The Major General nodded. “You are to stay here in the headquarters. You and your entire team. If something happens, you protect Maka from the military. Do you understand, Colonel Morton?”

Kid tensed, but he flawlessly managed to reply, “Yes, Sir.”

Well, this wasn’t the first time he planned to disobey a direct order.

* * *

“You ready to try a resonance?”

Soul stopped midway from slurping his chicken soup straight from his bowl. “Wha—?” he replied smartfully.

Maka leaned closer. “I think I’ve gotten the hang of my new circles. So, wanna try to do a resonance? You know, like… like the last time I wielded you in your full weapon form?”

Soul set his bowl down and pulled his mouth into a flat line. “Uh… It’s up to you? I mean, you’re the meister.”

Black☆Star had completed Soul’s tattoo a few days ago, but Maka had insisted she should properly master her new circle first before she tried to transmute Soul. This was a big deal. There was no room for mistakes, since what she would transmute was a human being. She absolutely didn’t want to accidentally hurt him.

But now she was confident.

“I’m your meister, but I’m not your master or anything, Soul. You have as much say in this bond as I do,” Maka affirmed.

He made that one toothache grin again. This boy really had to work on his inferiority complex, seriously.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Kilik to come back, though? I mean… he definitely wants to report this to the Reaper Colonel.”

Maka just shrugged. “We could just do it again in front of Kid himself. I don’t know where Kilik’s going or even when he would come back. Seriously, I thought he was stationed here to be my bodyguard,” she grumbled to herself. “But anyway, how about we try it now?”

Soul’s face became a little bit paler. “Like… Right now?”

She threw him a flat glare. “You think?”

But when she caught his uneasy expression, Maka softened. “Soul, it’ll be okay. I trained so hard for this. You trust me, right?”

He twisted his face into a complex frown. “I do but… I just…” He scrutinized his almost empty bowl of soup, muttering, “What if a rebound happens?”

Maka exhaled. The same dreaded thought had invaded her mind many times too, but if she was going to be his emotional support, she couldn’t let a little fear get to her. 

She leaned forward and took his fist in her hands, eternally grateful that the absurd awkwardness she had before had disappeared to the devil knew where.

“I won’t let it happen. And if it does, I fully trust you to reverse the alchemy flow. You’re perfectly capable of it with that circle on your back. Okay?”

His face was still full of uncertainty, but he nodded anyway, staring blankly at their joined hands.

So ten minutes later they went out of the back door to Black☆Star’s sparring field, hand in hand, walking slowly as they breathed in the cold air.

They stopped in the middle of the field, and Maka stepped in front of him, still holding his hands. She lifted her face to find his composed expression, but she knew his soul was vibrating with the combination of anticipation and anxiety.

“Let it flow through you, okay?” she directed. And when he nodded, she activated her alkahestry circles.

Bright green angel wings sparked around them, enveloping Soul in their lights. In one breathtaking second, it looked as if the wings were his. But sadly, Maka didn’t get enough time to admire the gorgeous sight, because in another second, he already landed on her hands as a scythe.

The last time she held his scythe form in her hands, she was too busy trying to stay alive to properly admire it. But now, seeing his scythe form in all its glory under the bright sunlight, she couldn’t help but to suck a sharp breath. It might be a tool for harming people, but it was still truly a breathtaking piece of art. The alchemical carving on his jet-black steel shaft made it look like an ancient and sacred weapon.

She caressed his blade, one finger trailing along the inscription.

_‘Ün moz gæmxileche, zŏl tte sena xærula, sena hostia, ain parculæs ssargul un Troxas Praim.’ [1]_

_‘I am a weapon, made of blood, of souls, in an eternal cycle of Tria Prima.’_

The same phrase was inked on his back and her palms.

It was the dead Xerxesian language. Maka was lucky Mama had taught her, saying that it was an important language from a forgotten branch of alchemy.

She smiled in irony. Who was she kidding? Mama certainly had taught her on purpose.

“You ready, Soul?”

_“Of course.”_

It was like she was melting into the Dragon Path itself.

Even when she closed her eyes, she could still see everything. Well, not quite ‘see,’ but ‘sensed,’ she guessed. The protons of every atom were sending information through the Path. Every shape—every matter and molecule—was clear to her. She could tell that Black☆Star was screwing two automail parts together inside his workshop, or that Blair was licking her paw on the second floor. If she concentrated further, she could even differentiate oxygen and carbon dioxide that were mingling in the winter air.

With a flick of Soul’s blade, she experimented to change the focus away from physical matter to the souls, feeling the imaginary sphere of her perception exploding a thousand times bigger.

For the love of Philosopher’s Stone.

It was beyond incredible.

She closed her eyes again, this time seeing thousands of floating blue spheres in the dark instead of the hazy shapes of the Dragon Path. There were buzzing little souls in the foliage around them, maybe little rabbits or squirrels that deemed it unnecessary to hibernate in Gallows Hill’s snowless winter. But soon she started to focus on the human souls she knew well.

The closest one, of course, was Soul’s unique double-soul. He was the brightest, which she deduced was because they were linked. Grinning, she found herself pleased with the fact.

The next was an obnoxious star-shaped soul—unmistakably Black☆Star (Maka was still puzzled on how a soul could be obnoxious), then Sid’s strong and diligent one, and Tsubaki’s gentle tosca-colored sphere (Maka’s heart warmed when she noticed a tiny tosca and star-shaped soul next to Tsu’s). Even further, Maka recognized Aunt Myra, hard at work in their tiny hospital town.

She continued to explore further, town by town, city by city, enjoying herself.

At some point, she sensed a sharp—and rather insane—soul, definitely Professor Stein’s. Miss Marie’s bubbly soul was next to him.

Fascinated, a gasp left her mouth when she recognized Kid’s entire team. No way! She could sense as far as East City?! Her excited giggles earned an unspoken question from the scythe in her hands. There was her Papa’s soul, not too far away from a stern blue sphere that Maka was sure belonged to Miss Azusa. Chuckling, she continued to comb East City, mesmerized by the amount of blue spheres in the urban area. It was a sea of blue light.

But wait—there was a single green soul.

Deep inside East City’s water tunnel, there was a green soul.

Sometimes, Maka would sense a tosca soul, like Tsubaki’s or her brother Masamune’s, but never—definitely never a green soul. Within dozens of places she’d traveled in twenty years of her life, there were only two green souls Maka had ever sensed. One was her own, and the other belonged to the disfigured body they’d buried under the name of Kamiko Albarn.

It was impossible.

But there was no doubt about it. There was no way she could mistake _that_ soul.

It was _her_.

Leto, Ishvala… _it was her_.

“Maka?” Soul was already landing on his feet as human, hovering over her worriedly. “Maka, what’s wrong?”

“I sensed her…” she heard herself whisper, her hands grabbing his arms in distress. “Soul… I sensed Mama…”

Soul’s eyes widened as she sank into the ground.

In the faraway bush, a snake-shaped shadow slithered away from them to the direction of East City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Yes, I bullshitted this phrase.  [ return to text ]  
> 


	7. Big Cities Are Full of Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was numb.
> 
> But fuck did his chest hurt.
> 
> He loved her.
> 
> God, he loved her.

_“Save him first.”_

_“But, Wezen—”_

_“I don’t care, save him first.”_

* * *

“Maka! Maka, wait!”

Maka jerked to a stop when Soul caught her arm. “What, Soul?!”

They were just five meters away from his new bike. How could he keep dawdling at a time like this? They had no time to waste!

“You can’t—we can’t just fly to East City! I mean—this is _weird_!”

Well, yeah, but that was precisely why they had to go to make sure!

“I know what you’re thinking, Maka, but think about it first!” he pressed. “You just sensed her _once_ , it could have been a mistake!”

Maka sneered, unintentional sarcasm seeping into her tone. “I think I can be trusted to recognize my own Mama’s soul, you know, being her daughter and all!”

Soul winced, releasing his grip and balling his hands on his sides. “Maka, your mother has been dead for over ten years.”

“Oh, like I need the extra reminder,” she scoffed.

His brow furrowed, lips thinned in a rather dismal way, making her regret her words a little too late. Ah, why did she always speak without thinking when her blood rushed into her brain?

It wasn’t only her who lost Mama.

“Soul, I…”

“I understand your feelings, Maka,” he interrupted, dismissing her attempt to apologize. “But what will you do once you’re in East City? Flip over every house and shout her name from the top of every building?” It was her turn to wince. “We already tried resonating again and again.”

“She is there, Soul! I can feel it!” she insisted, ignoring the truth: they hadn’t sensed Mama again after tirelessly resonating for hours.

She didn’t know if her sudden overenthusiasm was because she was dying to see her Mama again or if she wanted to demand explanations from her own mouth. Maka threw her gaze away from him, biting back her angry sobs.

“Maka…” Soul whispered, unable to keep the desperation out of his voice despite himself. “You took me to her grave the first time I came here.”

Yeah, she knew that, but there was a corner in her mind that was always wishing for Mama to be alive. It was a grieving child’s defense mechanism after losing a beloved parent. She kept thinking that it wasn’t really Mama whom they had buried, a thought that was strengthened by the fact that they had brought Mama’s remains in a tightly nailed coffin. She had never actually looked at her face.

The last time she had really seen Mama was when the woman slammed the door on Papa’s face, two years before her death.

Frankly, after her meeting with Soul, everything in Maka’s life had started to go laughably bizarre to the point that she couldn’t find the energy to be surprised anymore. After fighting literal immortals, the idea of her Mama being secretly alive wasn’t that much of an impossibility. Might as well throw in her Papa being a living Philosopher's Stone and be done with it.

“I never saw her body,” she finally murmured. “She was brought home in that tightly nailed coffin. They said her body was too… _disfigured_ to display.”

Maka sensed Soul’s surprise vibrating in his soul. If she’d had the time and patience to pay attention, maybe she would’ve noticed that his soul wasn’t as calm and collected as usual; the artificial part was giggling silently.

“Then we could—uh… Fuck, I’m starting to think that it’s _possible!_ ” He flailed his hand uncertainly, ended up running it through his hair, lost for words. “But still, we can’t just go to East City! How do you think the civilians would react if they see a little girl flailing a huge ass scythe and running about the city shouting a dead woman’s name? Not to mention the military! We’re not going to announce my being a human weapon to the Führer, right?”

Maka exhaled, scowling at the Ishvalan boy. How could he still casually think about stuff like that? She hated to admit that he had started to be her own voice of reason.

“Let’s just—let’s just call the Reaper Colonel or something… He’s in East City, right?”

She failed to maintain her scowl. “You can call him Kid, Soul.”

He grumbled, gesturing for her to get into the house.

* * *

The dungeon was entirely silent as always, save from the ragged breathing of a certain one-armed former alkahestrist.

Oh, seeing the former best State Alchemist in this pitiful state never failed to brighten Pride’s mood on a bad day.

“Guess what news I got today, Mrs. Albarn,” Pride purred. “Your daughter _and_ your former pet just found out about you.”

Pride smiled with satisfaction at the pure horror that flashed over Kamiko’s face. The woman quickly smoothed her expression back into one of prideful nonchalance. Really, sometimes it was infuriating to think about how _alike_ they were.

If there were living embodiments of the deadly sins within humans, this wench would certainly get the Pride’s crown.

“Her timing is just too perfect. I think I’ll have her be the one to activate the whole circle. Then I’ll take the weapon boy and dissect him to make more,” Pride chuckled. “Ah… Sometimes I wonder if God had blessed my entire plan.”

“My daughter won’t lose to the likes of you.”

“That’s rich, Mrs. Former Grigori,” Pride replied with a sweet voice. “When you, her _master_ , are stuck here at my mercy.”

The woman scoffed. “At your mercy? Are your ages finally starting to speak??” Her chuckles sent a searing bolt of fury arcing through Pride’s bones. “Let me remind you that it was _me_ who chose to lose my own Gate and ruined your plan. It was the result of _my_ own plan.”

Pride’s brow twitched. She stepped onto the wench’s face, forcing her to kiss the filthy dungeon floor. “That is not going to change the fact that you’re now a mere tool for me, a plaything I could throw away whenever I want.”

“And why haven’t you?” came a taunt from under Pride’s heels. “It’s because you still need me.”

“Not for long.” She kicked the wench’s face, then turned to the door. It wouldn’t do to have this shameless human ticking her ire any further. She was born to be the highest. Noble. The ultimate creature. And she would sit on the highest throne, one even _Father_ couldn’t reach.

“Poor thing, Homunculus Pride,” the vile woman drawled in an infuriatingly calm voice. “Even if you get the gift of alchemy, it won’t change your nature. You would never surpass humans.”

Pride stopped, nothing betraying her anger except the slight tremble of her fists. If she didn’t need the wench as a human sacrifice, she would have killed her by now.

“Even if you evolve yourself into the ultimate creature alchemy could produce, you are still a homunculus. A creature made by _humans_.”

There was a splat as the wench smacked into the wall, decorating it with her blood. A black vector arrow slithered back into Pride’s shadow and made it darker, emphasizing the cold fury emanating from her glare.

Pride suppressed a hiss at the mocking gleam in the other woman’s eyes. How could a creature that weak and disgusting could stir her blood? How dare she. _How dare!_

Even if there was no wrath left in her blood, she could still feel fury, especially if someone dared to step on her dignity.

The wench appeared to sense her anger, smirking condescendingly with her bloody lips.

Pride’s shadow slammed her again. Even if the woman was an important human sacrifice, nobody said that she had to be in her best state.

* * *

Maka approached her Papa tentatively.

“Papa…”

“Yes, angel?”

Papa was happily chopping tomatoes for tonight’s dinner. An interesting phenomenon, for those who didn’t know. One wouldn’t expect Amestris’s Major General to wear an apron over his military uniform in the kitchen and cook pasta for his 20-year-old daughter, after all.

Her Papa suddenly got home and announced that he would cook a great dinner for his daughter that evening. It was a little unusual, but Maka let him anyway. It was something her stupid Papa would do. He also kicked Soul away to the Barrett’s workshop, bellowing that he wanted a dinner date with his little angel. Yuck.

But actually, this would be a perfect chance.

“I… sensed Mama.”

Papa spun his whole body towards her, raising a brow. “What did you just say, darling?”

“I said I sensed Mama’s soul. Somewhere underground in East City.”

He stopped midway from reaching a spatula. “Maka… Mama is—”

“I know!”

Maka clenched and unclenched her fists, contemplating on telling everything to her Papa or not. If she wanted to get his help, she needed him to know, to understand. This wasn’t just a matter of mere curiosity. This was a matter of finding Mama, to find out the whole truth from the first hand. This was a matter of proving that Mama’s choices were _right_. For Mama’s sake.

For her own sake.

“Soul is—was—created by Mama.” Maka’s pitch was higher than usual, struggling to form the words. “Mama… infiltrated a black project, a project where they turned Ishvalan children into living weapons. She changed their alchemy formula into alkahestry, and arranged for the sole survivor of the project—for Soul—to eventually meet me. Wielding Soul makes my perception widen greatly, and when we first tried it out, I sensed Mama,” Maka nearly begged for him to understand. “Papa, Mama is alive, and I think she wants me to find her!”

After a long silence, her Papa let out a strained breath. “Mama didn’t send you to him for something like that...”

_What?_

“Papa…?”

_Wait a minute… What?_

Now when she remembered, her Papa was not that surprised when she first told him about Soul.

It was not just her Mama, but Papa too?!

“You…” Maka slit her eyes, the sharp blade of betrayal stabbing her chest again. “You know about this!”

Her Papa just flinched with that apologetic look on his face.

“YOU KNOW WHAT MAMA DID AND YOU LET HER!”

“Maka, I—”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?” Maka’s anger doubled when something else occurred to her. Her shouts stopped as she gritted her teeth, voice dropping, “Is this why you never wanted me to be an alchemist? You were afraid that I would find everything out eventually?”

“Darling, I just don’t want you to walk the same path as Mama… She was so hurt and tortured by it but was in too deep to get out…”

“So you _do_ know.”

Papa opened his mouth again, but failed to give any excuse, “Mama… Mama had her own choice, Maka.”

“Oh, shut it!” she snarled, swatting her Papa’s extended hand and storming out of the kitchen. “Soul! We’re going to East City!”

“Maka!” Papa caught her wrist, his eyes flashing with an authoritative spark. “I forbid you to go.”

“I just want to search for my _Mama_!”

His grab on her wrist tightened. “Mama is gone. We buried her.”

* * *

Why? Why did it have to be like this?

Spirit tightened his grab on his daughter’s wrist.

“Mama is gone. We buried her.”

He wanted nothing more than to spend a peaceful evening with his daughter, to shower her with love and affection before he had to go.

_Before he led a suicide mission to avenge her mother._

Apart from the ridiculous thing his daughter just said, Spirit was even more baffled to hear her destination; East City was the target of his operation. He absolutely would not let his daughter go to a hellish place full of chimeras and who knew what else lurking about the city’s underground tunnels.

No. It was already difficult to think about three hundred and twenty thousand citizens in the city. He didn’t need her to be there.

And for good measure, he had to kill every hope that bloomed inside his heart.

Kamiko was dead. He didn’t need the distraction.

“I SENSED HER!” Maka shouted, yanking herself out of his grasp. “I KNOW I SENSED HER!”

“MAKA ALBARN!” His daughter flinched. He almost never raised his voice at her. “You are to stay inside this house until I give you further notice!”

Maka’s eyes widened. It was not a father’s words to his daughter. It was a Major General’s command to his subordinate. And Spirit loathed himself for using that.

Still baffled, Maka actually yielded to him when he yanked the apron off and herded her into her own room. Her stunned silence added extra guilt with every step he took. She would hate him forever for this. But that was okay.

“Papa? What—”

Maka’s aggression was back once she noticed what he had pulled out of his uniform. She was strong for her age and stature, but Spirit Albarn didn’t become a Major General out of pure luck. His strength was not something to be taken lightly.

Metals clinked as the handcuff locked itself to her daughter’s wrist. A second of her horrified shock was enough for him to lock the other one.

“Stay in your room. Frank and Marie will be here in the morning to keep an eye on you.”

They were specially made handcuffs; the ones they used on alchemists. Their material combinations were unique enough to not be transmuted easily. The length wouldn’t allow their palms to touch, and the special substance would nullify any electrical reactions between electrons, cancelling any transmutation process. It was a useful thing, sure. He just never thought that he would use it on his own daughter.

“Stay still.”

His daughter refused to say anything, still glaring at him with that burning hatred. He had always seen her as a spitting image of Kamiko, but seeing her like this was making him think that maybe she had taken after him too. Her green eyes— _his eyes_ —were filled with rage and loathing, and Spirit wondered if that was how his eyes looked like when he saw himself in these past ten years.

He gently pushed her into her room, trying and failing to give her one last smile before locking the door.

“I HATE YOU!” Her hurtful shout reached his eyes. Damn. This was not what he imagined her last words to him would be.

Rapid footsteps approached him, bringing with them the Ishvalan kid. He shouted Maka’s name before he even halted, “Maka! Maka, what—”

The boy finally slid to a stop before him, out of breath and confused. But his eyes widened with bewilderment as his eyes fell onto the keys in Spirit’s hand.

“You locked up your own daughter?!”

Spirit’s ire shifted into a tired acceptance. The boy really did care for his daughter, and Maka cared for him, no matter how much Spirit tried to deny it.

“Stay with her.” He stared right into the boy’s eyes. Ah, he felt old. “Don’t let her go to East City.”

He left the stunned boy and strode into the living room. He had a phone call to make, to ensure that a certain Colonel and his entire team were forbidden to step out of their office and approach Gallows Hill for the next 48 hours.

* * *

“Maka, can’t you just transmute the lock open?”

Soul hovered in front of Maka’s door. It was unfortunate that _they_ never gave him lock-picking lessons in all those years. Ah, must be because they were afraid their pets would get away, as if the children couldn’t just kick the entire cell door off their hinges. But, anyway.

“I can’t! He cuffed my hands!”

“He _what_?!” Soul exclaimed, worriedly planting his ear onto Maka’s door.

“I’M GONNA KILL THAT OLD MAN!” Her yell made him yelp and nearly knock himself out on the nearest wall. Okay, he had sort of asked it by planting his ear but boy, couldn’t she be a little considerate? She surely shared that trait with her obnoxious brother.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he glowered, sticking a finger into his ringing ears. A muted grumble was heard from behind the locked door. “What happened, Maka?”

Something serious had to have happened for Spirit Albarn to lock his dearest daughter up and _cuff_ her. Soul had just met the man a total of three times, but it was enough for him to know that he was the ultimate doting father. He made Mrs. Kamiko look like a typical cold and cruel fairytale stepmother in Maka’s old picture books (it wasn’t him who read that, of course, it was Patty).

“I told him,” her muffled murmur came into his ears. “About Mama, I mean… and he didn’t believe me…”

_Ah._

“And he… he knew, Soul… He knew that Mama infiltrated that project. He knew what Mama had gone through and he… He never told me!” her angry yell ended in a strained voice.

Soul didn’t know what to reply. Even after finally meeting the man, Maka’s father was still a wonder to him. Soul was perceptive, sure, but Spirit Albarn was a hard man to read. He wore a mask, that was for certain. And his actions were not what they seemed.

It was strange for him to actually lock his daughter up just because she said his dead wife was not quite dead.

If Soul had to be honest, he kind of took Spirit’s side. It was just… terrifying to imagine Maka fighting those damn homunculi again. They really got lucky last time, because their enemies retreated instead of finishing them off. He was eternally grateful that it was him who received the worst damages.

Grumbling, he cursed Kilik for not being here when shit happened.

“No worries, anyway! Papa’ll go back tomorrow and I’ll be free to persuade Professor Stein and Miss Marie to release me!” Maka’s voice said.

Soul huffed. This would be a long-ass night.

* * *

Black☆Star scrunched his face in confusion at the two soldiers who were standing guard in front of his sister’s mansion.

He had just left the town for a bit, making an automail spare-part delivery. Just a little over an hour ago, he was still listening to Soul’s grumble about being kicked out of the house by Old Man Spirit.

What the _chicken egg-rolls_ had happened?!

But anyway, he had promised Kilik he would guard the Albarn house when he was away to do his Morton Missions. He thought it’d be okay to do a little delivery because Old Man Spirit was home (he was very busy, okay, it was the end of the year and orders were piling up, even his Dad was out of town for weeks answering customer calls), but apparently he’d been wrong. Of course his dumb sister would get into a trouble within an hour. What’d he expect?

And his parents said _he_ was the troublemaker.

Dumping the box of scrap metal in his hands, he strolled through the house out to the backyard. Using his incredible skill, he jumped over the high wall of the Albarn mansion, successfully slipping into the house through the back window.

Even though it was reasonable, in reality, it was not quite the best decision for Black☆Star to use the back route. He was completely oblivious of shadow snakes slithering around the two officers up front and injecting venom into them without sound, nor could he witness the shadow creatures consuming the two soldiers’ lifeless bodies.

* * *

Frank stared at his long-time friend with incredulity. The entire town of Patch was still deep in their slumber, of course; it was six in the morning, _mid-winter_. It was still too cold and early for this shit.

“You locked her up?” Frank questioned, tone devoid of any emotion whatsoever. When Spirit did nothing but grumble to his couch, he deadpanned, “Seriously, have you ever seen your own daughter? Forbidding her is equivalent to giving her an official mission signed by the Führer to do just the thing with promised bonus cash if she can finish her business in record time.”

Spirit grumbled some more into his couch. The Major General was really lucky Marie was still in bed, or he would have to lead his mission with two black eyes and possible cracked ribs.

“And you want me to keep an eye on her?” Frank flicked his cigarette into the ashtray. He'd never once succeeded in understanding what was going through the other man’s head. Well, it was a long time since he had actually cared about all the bullshit Spirit did. “She should be very trigger happy by now. At least my visit won’t be boring.”

Frank let his mind wander into what Kristopher said the other day, about what he found out and deduced, and about what Maka had dug out of Baschool. He had actually planned to visit his little pupil, and this would be a perfect chance to go. He wanted to confirm his own suspicions and theories anyway.

The findings and remains Kristopher had were definitely pointing to the same person Spirit targeted, who was probably the same person who had shadowed the State Alchemist department for years as well. Or hundreds of years, if Frank’s own mad theory matched Maka’s depictions of ‘immortals’.

“…And then she said she sensed her Mama,” Spirit’s voice broke his musings. “I mean, it’s impossible!”

Frank made no reaction towards the topic. He fully believed Maka, to be honest, and he himself had his own ‘doubts’ about Kamiko’s death. It wasn’t that surprising if she really was alive. Sadly, reality was cruel. No one listened to a mad scientist.

“How’s Blair?”

Spirit raised his eyebrow in confusion. “Who?”

“Your daughter’s cat.”

The Major General growled, “Wha—how does Maka’s cat have anything to do with this?! I’m being serious here!”

“So am I.” Frank puffed out a smoke ring nonchalantly, not a bit bothered by his friend’s rage and frustration. He still had the ongoing bet with Kamiko on how long it took for Spirit to realize the truth behind his daughter’s pet. Luckily for Maka, she had inherited her mother’s brain. She had already figured it out within a week.

“I mean it this time, Frank.” Spirit grimaced. “I’m fighting an enemy who killed my wife, who was the strongest alchemist this country ever had. If I can’t come back alive, you’re the only one I can trust to keep her safe within the military.”

“There’s still Kristopher, though.”

Spirit half-chuckled, too familiar with his friend’s ability to kill heavy atmospheres. “He’s still a brat, and he has a much worse position than my daughter.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell her? She’ll hate you for the rest of your life if you come back and for the rest of hers if you don’t.”

“I already lost Kamiko,” the Major General said, eyes dulled into a muddy green shade. “I’d rather she hate me than lose her too.”

Frank didn’t answer, inwardly wondering if he was as emotionally constipated as others said. If he was, then how could he always see the truth behind the Albarn family’s messed up feelings and interactions way too clearly? Even now, Frank could see exactly how this would end. But maybe it was just because he was too perceptive for his own good. Marie would know.

“21 December. Winter solstice, huh?” Frank shifted the topic again, glancing at a black and white photo on the wall. Kamiko was smiling in her mysteriously cold way, Marie and Azusa were pressed cheerfully into her sides, he was puffing out smokes, and Spirit and Sid laughed dumbly. It was taken on the summer solstice, exactly two years before Kamiko’s _death_. “Ironic.”

Spirit followed his stare and made a pained grimace. "It sure is. Dammit."

"Tonight, then?"

"Right after the curfew."

Frank tapped a finger on his knee in a random rhythm as he inhaled through his cigarette.

To tell or not to tell.

"Actually, Spirit."

His friend replied with an absent hum, still staring at the photo.

"Kristopher had given me something interesting a couple weeks ago."

Spirit turned around. "What?"

With a completely detached tone, Frank started his explanation about the circle under the East City and his suspicions about the real identity of Kamiko's supposed killer.

But Spirit heard nothing except for one. "So you're finally agreeing that these are really the people behind her death?"

"That is not the important point here, but yes."

The Major General was bristling with fury and something closer to deranged hunger. The tip of his mouth lifted up in an unsettling grin.

Frank had just thought Spirit was unsettling. And considering Frank's own personality, that was deeply concerning.

"Are you not gonna do something about the circle?"

Spirit gave no sign of interest, his eyes still the same shade of murky green. "You don't have the proof that it'd be activated tonight, do you? I'll go slaughtering those bastards tonight anyway. If they're really the same guys who made that supposed circle, then it'll be killing two birds with one stone."

He stood abruptly, hands balled at his sides. Frank didn't even flinch at the sudden motion.

"You're not even sure you'll come back alive."

“This is the last thing I can do for the woman I love,” Spirit muttered as he walked to the front door, not exactly responding to Frank's words. “Even though I know it’s only one sided,” he added under his breath before the door was fully closed, not expecting Frank to still be listening.

“She loved you too, you flea-brained monkey,” Frank said to the unmoving door.

* * *

“Isn’t this a little too conveniently… coincidental?”

Kid raised a brow at his Lieutenant. “What is?”

“The whole thing!” Liz flailed her arms in a wide circle. “You know, from Maka’s meeting with Evans in Death City, her Briggs debacle, your findings about those strange serial taboo experiments, then Major General Albarn’s mission and Mr. Stein’s own deductions, and finally this creepy sensing Maka had about her mom. They all lead us into this one specific place, at one specific time, with a very specific mission.”

They had received an absurd call from Maka yesterday, saying that she had sensed her mother’s soul, alive, when she tried to resonate with Evans. The whole team was in a silent frenzy since they found out that the supposed place of Mrs. Kamiko’s soul was roughly at the center of the circle Ford had drawn, which also happened to be under the exact building Major General Albarn would raid tonight.

Kid glanced at the map with a human transmutation circle before them. Liz was right. It was all too perfectly coincidental. It was either God’s sick prank or His way to show them the truth. Anyhow, they would do this and see it through to the end. The risk was too high for them to afford a room for errors.

Honestly, they had no actual plan on how to destroy the circle, except for going into the circle’s prominent spots and trying to disturb the alchemical flow with another alchemical reaction. If they were lucky, they could go into the underground canal and destroy some of it, since the city’s water system was what formed the actual circle in the first place, from what Harvar had found after some sneaking (the man was the absolute best for stealth missions).

But to be honest, Kid hoped they didn’t have to go as far as destroying canals, because there was a densely populated city above it.

Now, to wait on Harvar’s other specialty…

The soldier in question was fiddling with a tiny box Kid didn’t even know what that was. All he knew was that it would tamper with the military’s line and surveillance cameras, making them play a loop recording, giving his team a simple alibi to sneak out to Gallows Hill. Officer Claymore and Second Lieutenant Astaire would simply say they were having an important meeting if other soldiers tried to go into their office. There was no need for other soldiers to know that Team Morton had disobeyed a direct order.

Harv gave a thumbs up to Ford, who nodded and plugged the little box into their main line.

Preparation done.

They wasted no time stalking out of the headquarters to get their cars. Sometimes it was handy to have Patty as a distraction for other soldiers. Her cheerful smile and childish appearance often made people lower their guard.

In the record time of ten minutes, they were already speeding to the direction of Gallows Hill in two cars. Kilik would meet them in Albarn mansion after picking up their extra hand. It might be a roundabout and a waste of time to go all the way to Gallows Hill from East City if their mission would be executed in the latter, but they needed non-military-issued ammunitions and a place to regroup, since Harvar had reported that the key points of the circle had an unholy amount of chimeras lurking underground, which was why Barrett automail shop was the perfect place.

It was 10 AM sharp when Kid stepped out of the car.

There was no one who answered the door. Where were they?

A low hiss alerted him to look above. Black☆Star waved from Maka’s second floor. “Morton, you dumb popsicle, why did you come through the front gate? What about the lookouts?”

Kid raised his brow, “Lookouts?” He took a glance at Liz, receiving her headshake, and replied, “There’s no lookout.”

“Oh, they’re gone?” Black☆Star grinned, then turned his head inside, shouting, “Soul! They’re gone!”

Black☆Star disappeared into the house, leaving Kid and his team exchanging confused faces. There was a loud thud and rapid footsteps coming from the house. A second later, the door cracked open, revealing the blue-haired engineer.

“Come in, come in, make yourself at home!” he jerked his head inside.

Kid rolled his eyes, immediately searching for the owner of the house. “Where are Maka and Evans? And what are you doing up there?”

Star waved his hand and led them to Maka’s room. “Well, Maka has a little house-arrest situation. Soul and the cat are busy guarding her door.”

_What the—?_

“I just checked on her literally 24 hours ago, what actually happened?”

“Eh,” Star scoffed. “A little fight broke out and the Old Man locked Maka up in her room. Fancy handcuffs and all.”

“HE WHAT?!” It was Liz who shrieked.

“Exactly my reaction,” came a drawled voice. They had arrived in front of Maka’s room and Evans was staring flatly at them from his spot on the floor. It might be the first time Evans regarded them without any hostility or aggression. His body language was calm and even a little lazy, though Kid noticed he was sitting upright instead of doing his usual slouch. Maka’s black cat purred on his lap, swaying her tail. “Took you guys long enough to get here.”

“Listen, you sharkface—” Liz started, but Kid raised a hand before she could form a full-sentenced insult.

“We have no time.”

Liz grumbled, but retreated back to her sister’s side. Black☆Star, who had no interest in their almost catfight, produced a wire and started to pick Maka’s lock skillfully.

“Oh, thank Leto, Buddha, Jesus, whatever, if I spend a minute longer in there I’m gonna kick my window out of its hinges.” Maka’s breaths were loudly audible when she stepped out of the room. Well, from the footprints on the window, it seemed like she had tried that.

“Fucking thanks for your impeccable timing,” Evans mumbled for no one to hear.

“He really cuffed you!” Liz shrilled again, glaring holes at Maka’s wrists.

Kid’s eyes dropped on Maka’s wrists, and a cold sweat broke on his face. Oh, snap, it was _those_ cuffs. The Major General must’ve had the resolution to be hated for life.

“Can’t you transmute it?” Liz urged him as they walked down to the living room.

“No, they’re special cuffs. They were forged from at least ten different metals and fifteen other materials with unique proportions for each unit,” Kid hissed. They were the kind they used on rogue alchemists and top ranked criminals. They all knew alchemists can’t transmute something if they don’t have a full understanding of the material. As a student of the prodigal Professor Stein, he could crack it, sure, but it would be another couple months before he succeeded. “We need the key.”

“Pah, keys!” Black☆Star scoffed before yanking Maka’s hands to the floor. “Hold still!”

And with one wide movement, he swung the heel of his steel-soled boot to the cuff’s joint and crushed it to splinters. Everybody’s jaws were somewhere on the floor, staring at the horribly cracked concrete under the metal splinters. Shuddering, they sometimes forgot that Black☆Star was Star Clan.

But Kid was the first to recover. “You know, knowing your occupation, one would expect you to fiddle with the lock or something. Like with the door.”

Black☆Star waved his hand. “Psh! Lame. A god never does the same trick twice.”

Kid was sure it wasn’t the first time and certainly wouldn’t be the last time Black☆Star picked a lock or crushed one, but he wisely chose not to comment.

“Great! Now we can go straight to East City!” Maka dictated, brushing the remains of the cuffs of her wrists, ready to make a dash to the front door.

Evans caught her wrist and gently pulled her down to sit on a couch. Maka whipped her head at him in fury, but instantly paused when he gave her a firm head shake. She gnashed her teeth and looked like she wanted to punch something for a moment, but to Kid’s surprise, she exhaled a breath and begrudgingly sat beside the Ishvalan man, not bothering to pull her hand out of his hold.

No one could stop a determined Maka Albarn with a goal set before her, but Evans could refrain her with just a single headshake.

Interesting.

But there were graver things to think about than his friend’s blooming relationship. Kid cleared his throat. “All right, the situation had changed. We can’t just barge into that place and casually set up a search party. Ford actually found a link between the anonymous kidnappings and bloody incidents surrounding that area.” All eyes trained to Ford, who was nodding and smirking a little proudly.

“What do you want to say, Kid?” Maka demanded.

“Ford drew a rather disturbing diagram out of those points,” Kid answered through tightening jaws, sliding a crumpled paper with scribbled circles and arrays drawn over the East City map. “Professor Stein already confirmed it. It’s a human transmutation circle.”

Both Evans and Maka’s eyes widened. Evans’s face turned into a disgusted frown while Maka’s shifted into an angry red.

“I’m so sorry, Maka, but your search is currently less-prioritized than this, because three hundred and twenty thousands of innocent people’s lives are at stake,” Kid continued, hoping she wouldn’t explode in anger.

Fortunately, there was still some common sense left in Maka, because she visibly refrained herself from protesting. “B-but… a circle this big? It envelops the entire city!” Maka quaked after a few minutes of silence, leaning over to demand further explanation. Sadly, there was no time to waste.

“That is why we have to think about how to evacuate at least the center area and make sure the soldiers your father leads won’t step into the inner circle.”

“My Papa?” Maka blinked, confused, “What does my Papa have to do with this? He told me he was going on a high-ranked mission in Leore!”

Kid exchanged a glance with Liz before asking tentatively, “Maka, he didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Kid had difficulties forming his words, so Liz took his job, saying in a quiet voice, “The target of his mission is the exact place we’re going to.”

Maka’s eyes widened almost comically, her hand going limp on her lap as Evans squeezed the other one. “He tried to keep me out of this.” Her volume rose as her face changed into a mix of anger and exasperation. “He tried to keep me out of this!”

“We know that already, can we please proceed with the plan?” deadpanned Harvar. The man really had no fear.

Maka directed her dark glare at him, but Harv was too cold and nonchalant to be melted by her fiery wrath.

“Spirit might be right to keep you home, Maka. It is a dangerous place. Well, not that I’m agreeing with him, anyway,” a voice said from the front door.

Everyone turned at the newcomer, who was brandishing a squirming black snake. Something about the creature wasn’t right, almost as if it was made of shadows. Kid was right, as it dissipated quickly into nothingness when the newcomer squeezed it tighter.

“Professor Stein!”

The professor took a seat among them, followed by Lieutenant Colonel Mjolnir, Kilik, and two young women.

“What _was_ that thing?!” Liz blurted, unintentionally taking a step back from the Professor.

“Oh, that?” the professor replied nonchalantly, making himself more comfortable on his seat. “Just a trick from an old acquaintance. It means that you’ve been spied on.”

“What?!” five or six voices shouted at the same time.

“Oh, nice circle you’ve completed, Kristopher,” the professor said casually, ignoring the others’ stunned look. At their silent reaction, he added, “Come on, no need to be shocked. It’s useless to think about the spying anyway, they already know we’re coming.”

Kid forced himself to produce words despite his shock, “I’m not the one working on it, it’s Second Lieutenant Ford, but—wait, Professor, what are _you_ doing here?! And with Lieutenant Colonel Mjolnir!”

Especially since the Lieutenant Colonel was in her uniform, indicating that they were here by official order.

“We’re here by order of Major General Albarn to keep an eye on Maka, officially,” Lieutenant Colonel Mjolnir—Miss Marie—answered, obtaining a flinch from Maka.

“Officially?”

“Officially.”

Kid raised his brow and frowned. “You’re violating a direct order.”

Miss Marie waved her hand, gesturing at his team, who were all also in their uniforms under the military’s winter coat. “Oh, like you’re one to talk! We’re only joining for a little fun!”

Kid pursed his lips, but before he could counter, Professor Stein leaned onto the table, comparing the first crumpled paper with a new one, which he produced out of his lab coat. “Hmm, I think it’ll need an extra point right in this way, and this, yeah, guess it’ll do nicely. Who would’ve thought it’d be this easy? She’s lost her touch.”

Of course, Kid heard the implication in his professor’s words, but he was beaten by Harvar, who inquired with a frown, “You know who’s behind this?” 

“Well, yeah, of course, I should’ve known it’s _her_ Kamiko picked a fight with. _She_ ’s been around for over three hundred years and has left many splatters in alchemy history, I know her style. We’re one of a kind, after all,” Professor Stein answered airily, his smile a touch too uncomfortable to be friendly. Miss Marie sent a quiet glare at him over Kid’s head.

“They were Mama’s enemy?” Maka pressed urgently. Her hand in Evans’s hold was maybe the only thing preventing her from leaping and yanking the front of their professor’s lab coat. “Was… Was the accident ten years ago caused by them?”

At this, Professor Stein softened slightly, though Kid doubted the others could tell the difference. “Possibly,” was all he said.

Maka sunk back into her seat, frowning deeply as her fists started to tremble. Evans gave her a squeeze again. Liz was already beside her, somehow, placing a hand on the younger girl’s shoulder.

Pulling his attention away from Maka, Kid debated against himself whether to voice his own suspicion or not. His face fell into a grimace. Even though he had formed his team to do his agendas, most of them hadn't known what Kid was truly after.

The truth of his Father's death did not make it to the public, after all.

But finally, he made up his mind. “Professor,” Kid started, hands balled on his knees. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Are they really immortals?”

His professor stared at him with an unreadable face. Kid ignored his uneasy heartbeat and concentrated on appearing calm and composed.

“You see,” the older man finally answered after a long silence, putting a cigarette on his mouth and lighting it up. “Within the past two or three decades, in every generation, there's always been an anonymous scientist who contributed greatly in the development of our country's alchemy.”

He puffed a smoke ring before resuming his story, “It was bizarre, because there was no way a scientist that good was not getting recognition in this country. Normally, they would certainly be granted the State Certification. There was no concrete proof that all of them were the same person, on top of the obvious impossibility, but they all had similar touch and a distinct way of doing scientific research. And for a reason, their styles always, _always_ , had something to do with serpents. So, naturally, I have suspicions.”

“But isn't the logical conclusion to take is ‘a long line of mentors and students of one alchemy style’ instead of ‘the same person’?” doubted Harv.

“You are correct,” the professor nodded, not exactly stumped by Harvar's logic nor feeling the need to disprove it.

Kid had the same question, to be honest, but he knew his professor enough to not doubt him, because Frank N. Stein had a very rational way of thinking and would not believe something if he didn't have solid proof, contrary to his reputation as a mad scientist.

True to his thought, the professor started his explanation, “I have no solid proof, sure, but I and Kamiko came across this woman a few years after we established our partnership.” He stopped a bit to flick the ashes off his cigarette without bothering to find an ashtray.

The normal Kid would immediately throw a fit and deem cleaning the carpeted floor a top priority, but he couldn't find it in him to care, which was an unsettling behavior in itself.

“She was an important figure behind many secret research, apparently, despite not having the talent to do an active transmutation. She had all the distinct traits of the mysterious scientists from previous generations. And yeah, she had quite an affinity with snakes.”

Again, the professor stopped. When he started again, his voice was low and inducing a chill to Kid’s spine.

“Her name was Medusa.”

Kid’s eyes widened. His fist tightened on his knees, nails painfully digging into his palms. From Maka’s side, Evans shared the same look, though no one paid him any attention.

“Then…” Kid felt his mouth move, “Then there’s a chance that this immortal group we’re after is the same group who had played a part in my Father's death.”

A few people let out a strangled ‘what?’ at that, but Kid did not have the mind to explain. But to his relief, Liz, his ever dependable Lieutenant, silenced them with a stern ‘Later!’ and a quiet headshake.

The professor didn’t answer, only looking at him with his typical unreadable expression.

Kid sucked a long breath.

He had to control himself. There was a very important mission ahead of them. He couldn’t afford emotional outbursts.

“Immortals… Homunculus…” Maka whispered, finally pulling herself together to join the discussion. “Are they alchemists?”

Professor Stein made a doubtful face. “Not an alchemist, for sure. A scientist, yes.”

“They can’t use alchemy,” Ford concluded in a quiet murmur. The professor nodded.

“Then why make a huge-ass transmutation circle?” Liz protested. “What for?”

The professor shrugged. “That’s the question of the day, isn’t it? Anyway, Maka—” he reached over to pat Maka’s shoulder, ignoring Evans’s flinch, “—I believe you. Kamiko is here.”

Apart from both of them—and Evans—the rest refrained from showing their skepticism. Even Kid himself had a doubt about Maka’s statement.

Firstly, Mrs. Kamiko had been dead for over ten years. If she was alive, then who did they bury under her name? Even Major Yumi, one of the few people who had the chance to look at the disfigured body, had said that it was unmistakably her, proven by the lines of alkahestry circles tattooed on her palm and a platinum wedding ring on her finger; the perfect match of Major General Albarn’s.

Secondly, Maka had only sensed her for a couple seconds. She could be mistaken.

So why did the professor look dead serious?

“Enough of the chat,” the professor yawned. “We can’t just disrupt the circle like a normal alchemy circle. This person can’t use alchemy, but she may be the most knowledgeable person about it in the whole Amestris. Her ‘alchemy’, and this is a theory I made myself, is honestly a self-activating transmutation chain with a fifth element—imagine something like the Philosopher's Stone—as the trigger. The only way to cancel it is by activating a counter-circle right after the first circle is triggered.”

Professor Stein gestured to the paper he had placed beside the original scribble Ford had made, which had a different circle drawn on it. “For that to happen, we need five alchemists in the inner circle to activate the quasi-transmutation chain, and Maka—” he nodded at the girl in question, “—to connect them all to the outer circle with your alkahestry.”

They were all just gaping at the professor.

How could he formulate all of that so easily?

As if knowing their astonishment, the Professor leaned back in a relaxed manner, seemingly saying that it was just a small thing. “I know _her_ style, and you may forget, Kristopher, but I had read both of Maka’s documents about the music box _and_ your report. I’ve been constructing the counter-circle since,” the Professor replied Kid’s unspoken question with a smirk.

They said Frank N. Stein was a prodigy, but that seemed to downplay the professor’s actual ability. Could a perfectly sane and normal human casually construct a counter-circle of something they had seen for the first time? Kid thought not.

Well, technically, any alchemist could, but it would take years of research and calculations. Not a month.

“Ah, and your deadline is 12 PM tonight, or three hundred and twenty thousand lives will be lost.”

“Wha—”

“Think about it. What would happen if there’s a human transmutation circle being activated under your feet?”

Everyone in the room repressed a shudder. Kid stared at his Professor’s eyes while an unsettling sensation dropped into his gut.

Either they would be dragged into the Gate, or be turned into a Philosopher’s Stone. Possibly both.

Kid glanced at the faint stitches on his Professor’s body; he and Maka were lucky enough to be taught by an alchemist who had opened the Gate, who had an unusual moral compass to tell his pupils about the taboo of alchemy. Including human transmutations and the theory he had thought of the secret behind a Philosopher’s Stone.

And the rest of his team was lucky to have him as their leader, since Kid himself also did not hold back from telling them all about the taboo of alchemy; to prepare them for the worst, since the enemy he’d been hunting was certainly not a normal human.

Kid gulped. Were they really lucky, though?

“Why tonight?” Patty, who was playing with an ornament since she stepped into the room, chirped.

“Winter solstice,” the Professor answered airily. All of them completely missed a slight twitch on Evans’s brow.

Kid immediately picked up. Ah, the rebirth of the sun. The amount of tectonic energy that would be released when the planet tilted back was huge, indeed. Made sense.

He caught himself and dragged his mind back to track. “Okay, so five alchemists. Me, Kilik, Maka, Professor Stein, and…”

“Me.” Kilik’s guests finally made themselves known, and Kid grimaced in shame for neglecting them the entire time. They had been muted by the Professor’s overwhelming aura. 

The one with black hair stepped forward, declaring calmly, “I’ll be the fifth alchemist.”

“Jackie! Kim!” Maka exclaimed when she took a good look at the two strangers. Her surprise was met by the women’s smiles.

“Nice to see you and your grumpy boyfriend again, Maka,” said the one with pink hair. “I see you’ve taken better care of your hair, Evans.”

“He’s not my—!”

The pink-haired woman sent a sly smirk at Maka’s hand, which was still in Evans’s grip, by the way. They spontaneously broke the hold, as if being stung.

The abnormally heavy atmosphere that had been weighing the room since Professor Stein's arrival was dispersed by the pink-haired woman's light teasing. Kid could even feel a snort coming out of him.

He disguised it as a polite cough.

“Kim,” the other woman chided, though she was also wearing a little smile. “My name is Jacqueline Dupré. You’re welcomed to call me Jackie, though, and this is my girlfriend, Kim Diehl.”

“We all know that you two had helped Albarn in the North Province, but this is another mission entirely. And considering it was technically you who reached out first, can we ask why you volunteered yourselves?” The ever serious one, Harvar, stole Kid’s words and spit it out in his gravely snide tones. Kid sighed; he should’ve been faster.

But Harvar had a right to be suspicious, though. It was not everyday they had someone volunteering to help them in their agendas. The two women just contacted Kilik one day and demanded to be let in to whatever mission Kid was having. That was the reason why Kilik sometimes left his post as Maka’s bodyguard; to meet them.

But fortunately, Jackie didn’t take the offense in the slightest. “We have our own reasons.”

“Well, we just want to stand clear here, you already know us from Kilik, but we don’t know about you. What’s the word for it, eh? Ah, equivalent exchange,” Harvar snatched Kid’s words again, making the Colonel grumble. He really should give mediation lessons to his subordinates. Ford jabbed his partner lightly, hissing.

Jackie looked ready to shout, but Kim stopped her. “It’s okay, Jackie.”

She took out her forearm for everyone to see. Somehow, Kid had an inkling that Kim already expected this to happen, considering her choice to wear a sleeveless outfit in the winter. In a second, the muscles on Kim’s lithe arm began to grow, red fur quickly covering it as her nails became longer, sharper and deadly. It was only a flash before Kim’s arm returned to normal.

_For the love of Prima Materia, was she really—_

“I am not a full chimera,” she muttered, answering Kid’s unfinished question, her tone strained. “I—we chose to help you because we know you’re not on the military’s side. We know you’re working against this regime, and we have aligned objectives. There is a reason why Jackie and I are never on the military’s side even though we were from military families.”

She exhaled a heavy breath before continuing, “My father was a soldier before they took him into a lab and transmuted him with a raccoon.”

No one commented. Even Professor Stein, the Life-Sewing Alchemist, who specialized in chimera and bio-alchemy, was silent. However, his dark eyes told Kid that he had known about such things rampaging inside the military body but had no power to stop it.

Ah, the curse of being a dog of the military.

“Thank you for telling us, Miss Kim,” Kid pulled himself up in time to reply. The woman replied with a stiff smile.

Liz was the second to break from her trance. “Okay, now we need the guns!”

Black☆Star, who had been surprisingly silent and civil the entire time, stood from his seat on the nearby window and led them to his automail shop. “This way! And Kid, I’m putting it in your tab!”

Kid transformed his groan into a cough in time to avoid Liz’s glare.

* * *

While the others took their sweet time raiding the Barrett’s weapon shop, Maka scooted closer to Miss Marie, observing Kid’s team arming their entire bodies from the sidelines.

“Did Papa really send you and Professor Stein here?” she started in a small voice.

Miss Marie wrapped her arms around her, smiling earnestly. “He just wants you to be safe, Maka. Don’t be so hard on him.”

Maka grimaced, denying acknowledgement of her Papa’s stupid parental concerns. “And he went to Professor Stein for help?” she said, incredulity thick in her tone.

“Well…” Miss Marie chuckled. “He was pretty desperate. I think we’re the only adults he could think of that are politically neutral in the East Province. He basically forgot that the last thing Frank would do is to obey an order.”

She giggled again, and this time, Maka imitated Soul’s toothache grin. Her eyes flew to one corner of the weapon shop, where Ford was meticulously asking about every detail of both the East City circles to her professor.

“Was it true, Miss Marie?” Maka heard herself say. “That Papa… basically went into this mission expecting things wouldn’t… wouldn’t go right?”

The arms around her moved up and down, giving her calming strokes. Miss Marie let the silence blanketed them for a while before she said in a soft tone, “Your mother was the strongest alchemist in our arsenal, Maka. She was basically unbeatable. But yet… Yet she lost. This enemy had managed to send your mother back to your father as a disfigured corpse. Think of what your father thought.”

Maka didn’t answer. She stared at the ceiling to forbid the mist in her eyes from turning into liquids, blinking desperately to keep her face dry.

“He is the dumbest father ever,” she rasped after an eternity.

Miss Marie didn’t give her a reply except for her tightening side hug and her gesture to let Maka’s head fall on her shoulders. They stayed that way, silently watching Liz loading a magazine into an enormous sniper rifle, Harvar tucking two Glocks into his shoulder holsters, Patty assembling a grenade launcher, and Black☆Star roping Soul along and forcing Berettas onto him to carry.

Miss Marie’s eyes were also nailed on Black☆Star and Soul apparently, because she said with a thin layer of excitement, “So tell me about your boy, Maka.”

“M-my what?” Maka’s voice came out like a squeak.

“Your boy,” Miss Marie repeated without mercy for her reddening face. “Soul Evans, wasn’t it? Such an unusual name for an Ishvalan.”

At that, Maka forced herself to laugh. “A-aah… That was just, um, a fake name. I, uh, sort of asked Kid to forge him a new identity?” she smiled sheepishly.

Miss Marie blinked, suddenly very interested. “Really? Then he gave himself a new name?”

“Not—not really?” Maka answered a little warily. Miss Marie’s smile was a touch too similar to Tsubaki’s or Liz’s when they heard a new gossip. “His given name was his own but, uh, I gave him his last name, so— _why are you smiling like that, Miss Marie?!”_ she shrieked the last bit because the older woman’s smile had widened into a dangerous level.

“Well, only because names are a thing that shouldn’t be taken lightly in Ishvalan culture, sweetheart,” Miss Marie explained, still with that wide grin.

“Uh… what do you mean by that?”

“Do you know that Ishvalan parents never gave their children names themselves?” Miss Marie answered with another question. “Their names were given by their religious leaders. For them, a name is a sacred thing bestowed to them by their god Ishvala. That’s why they had never given themselves a name.”

Dread and mortification swelled in Maka’s head the more she tried to digest Miss Marie’s words. Oh, no! She had unknowingly disrespected a very important part of his culture, and he had said nothing about this!

“And that’s why, Maka, him receiving a name from you would be equal to accepting a divine present from an angel,” Miss Marie whispered on Maka’s already steaming ears.

“Miss Marieeeeee, please stop!” she shoved the Lieutenant Colonel away, only to receive delighted giggles.

Oh. That was probably why Soul was so amazed when she told her she would give him a last name.

It was as if her embarrassment was blaring siren noises, because right at that time, the boy in question stared at her with a piqued look. Still with a completely flustered face, Maka threw him a childish pout and whipped her face away from him, earning a confused tilt of head she was too embarrassed to see.

She would give him a good punch later.

* * *

Soul didn't know what prompted the feeling, but he sensed a weird danger radiating from Maka.

Confused, he turned his head to her direction, only to find her whipping her face away, cheeks puffed.

What the hell?

Soul was just going to walk towards her and maybe demand an explanation, but Black☆Star slung his arm on his shoulder and dragged him away to take a look at more guns. Soul groaned. Unfortunately, it was wiser and quieter to just go along with him when it came to Black☆Star.

But after a couple more minutes, Black☆Star suddenly announced he had to go upstairs, because apparently he had forgotten to tell Tsubaki about the whole mission. Soul couldn't help the grumble. Damn man had such a squirrel brain sometimes.

Somehow, Soul ended up being dumped beside the creepy Professor and that snobbish soldier (which he still hadn't clearly caught the name and felt it was too rude to ask at that point).

The tallest soldier with the deadpan face (was his name Harvar? Or maybe Harvey? Soul struggled to remember before giving up. Yeah, he'd just call him Harv or something) approached them and tapped the shoulder of his comrade, saying, "Are you not gonna pick a gun?"

The snob soldier jolted up straight with a surprised yelp before scrambling away to the rest of their team, Harv followed behind with a calmer pace.

The absence of the two soldiers made Soul relax a bit. A very tiny bit. Because there was still the creepy Professor beside him.

Part of him wanted to go to Maka, wanting to gain some peace of mind and rid himself of the need to socialize, but seeing her talking rather passionately to the Eye-patch Lady detained his intention. Besides, it was very uncool to use her as a social shield every time he got uncomfortable.

So Soul stayed in his place, choosing to admire the Beretta Black☆Star had shoved onto his hands earlier and just wish he didn’t have to engage in any future conversations.

But his luck was never the best, as always, because the creepy Professor started to talk, "So you're the kid Kamiko had saved?"

Soul quietly slipped the gun under his leather jacket. "Am not the only one."

The Professor scanned him from head to toe, clearly calculating. A chill ran down Soul's spine. He knew the professor was on their side, but he couldn't help the extreme discomfort. Something about him made Soul want to keep their distance at least a hundred miles away.

If Maka was the furthest State Alchemist from the people who experimented on him and Wes, then the creepy Professor was the _closest_. There was no doubt the Professor would open him up if he had his way.

“Clearly this is not her best result. I honestly expected more from her,” the Professor said.

Soul kept silent.

“What was she thinking, really? She could just end everything if she just made a Philosopher's Stone,” the Professor drawled to himself, still staring at the twitchy Soul.

Soul found himself unwillingly dragged to join the conversation by his own mouth. “What do you mean? That stone is just a legend.”

Now the Professor gave him his whole attention. Which didn't help Soul's anxiousness a little bit.

“Is it?”

Soul gawked, stuttering, “I… uh, isn't that obvious?”

The Professor didn't give a response except for a tiny dubious shrug. Soul didn't know what else to say, so he just made a confused frown.

"Don't you realize that you're the closest thing to a Philosopher's Stone among us humans?"

_What?_

"What?"

Soul stared at the professor with wide eyes.

His Demon was giggling.

"Do you know what is the main ingredient of a Philosopher's Stone?" The Professor ignored his desperate need for an answer.

Before Soul could demand a decent answer, a voice answered from behind him, "Living humans."

The snobbish soldier was standing behind him, tucking his newly-acquired gun inside his hip holster. But Soul was too shocked by the answer to be coherent.

_A living what?!_

"As expected of you, Ford. You did your research."

The snobbish soldier—Ford—took his original seat beside the Professor. “What do you mean with Evans being the closest thing to a Philosopher’s Stone, Professor?”

“I mean exactly what it is,” the older man said. “His Black Blood that serves as the core energy to do his weapon transmutation is actually similar to a Philosopher’s Stone.”

The Professor began to spread the details about both the Black Blood and the Philosopher’s Stone. Ford listened intently, occasionally asking something. But Soul was deaf to their voices.

There was nothing in his head but extreme dread and disgust caused by this revelation. Beads of cold sweat ran down his neck as he balled his hands into trembling fists. Soul wanted to puke.

He might not be an alchemist, but he had seen the things alchemy could make.

Once again, he was reminded of how disgusting his existence was.

Because he was painfully aware of another vengeful entity inside him. He was painfully aware of how much sacrifice and blood taken to complete him. He didn’t forget the cries of his Ishvalan brothers and sisters, even though he couldn’t remember their faces or their names.

Something frightening plunged into Soul’s gut.

The insane chuckling inside his head was confirmation enough.

As if wanting to corroborate Soul’s darkening thoughts, the professor stated,“In short, there were human lives sacrificed to make you.” He looked deep into Soul’s eyes as if dissecting the deepest part of his being.

“Something cannot be created from nothing, and so in order to obtain something, something else of equal value must be lost,” the man said, citing alchemy’s highest and most important law. “That is the law of equivalent exchange.”

Inside Soul’s head, the Little Demon was grinning.

_‘There’s always a price to pay when you step into God’s domain.’_

An echo of the statement Mrs. Kamiko had said a long time ago.

And at that moment, Soul realized two things:

The Professor’s right eye was artificial, and his left one had the same shade as the one visible eye of the blonde military Lady who was talking eagerly beside Maka.

* * *

Tsubaki was pacing in her room, occasionally glancing over the window to the Albarn mansion. Two of her innermost desires clashed terribly inside her chest.

She had heard about Maka’s resonance with Soul; about how she found out the possibility that Mrs. Kamiko was alive. She wanted to go too, to check the dragon path herself for a clue if her former mistress was really alive, because she had suspicions, just as Maka had, that the incident which took Mrs. Kamiko and her big brother’s life was not all it seemed.

But she had also heard about Maka’s fights with the immortals, after her husband demanded the whole story from their little sister. She wanted Maka to be here, where she could watch over her.

The horrible incident still left a sour taste in Tsubaki’s mouth. If it wasn’t for Soul, Maka could have been dead. And it was because she wasn’t there to help. If something had happened to Maka, it would’ve been her fault.

Protecting their clan’s bloodline was the Nakatsukasa family’s duty.

It was _her_ duty.

It was why she was brought here in the first place; to protect Maka Albarn, daughter of Xing Imperial Family’s Seventh Princess, Lady Kamiko of the Shimizu clan, who had fled her own country to escape her destined fate to be imprisoned inside the imperial castle as the next emperor’s concubine.

It was her duty to protect the lost princess who wasn’t even aware of her own blood.

How could she forget that?

But she couldn’t do either of them. _Impossible,_ she sighed, caressing her round tummy. She couldn’t fight if she had another soul to protect inside her.

Even if she went to East City, she couldn’t use her Soul Perception to search for Mrs. Kamiko either. Another soul in her body made it hard to see her surroundings, which was why she hadn’t realized Soul’s strange soul until that particular evening in their kitchen.

“Stop pacing, Tsu, you’ll agitate the kiddo.”

Tsubaki spun to face her husband, who approached her with a slight smile. “Black☆Star,” she whispered.

He took her hand and led her to the bed. Tsubaki fidgeted with the hem of her blouse, stealing a glance at the window again.

“You know about him, right?”

“Huh?”

“Soul.”

“Ah.” Tsubaki winced a little before tentatively nodding.

“And why didn’t you tell me?”

“I honestly don’t know…” Tsubaki exhaled, “Well, his soul was weird, but... frankly, I just didn’t feel any malicious intent coming from him. I don’t think I’ll sense it even if I use my full-perception. And Maka-chan seemed to be quite taken with him. We know that as a direct descendant, her perception is far stronger than mine. She had said that Soul is a good person, and that’s enough for me, really. If she didn’t want to talk about it then I don’t want to pry.”

Black☆Star wiped her bangs out of her eyes. “Then that’s okay.”

Tsubaki nodded again.

“You wanna go, right?”

She answered with a troubled grimace, her hands subconsciously fled onto her belly. Black☆Star followed her movement, placing his hand above hers.

“Do you regret it?”

Tsu’s face quickly changed into a furious disagreement, shaking her head. “Never!”

“But you still want to go,” he concluded, rubbing his thumb on her palm.

Sometimes it still amazed her, how he seemed to read her emotions without her speaking a word.

“Remember our wedding vows, Tsu?” her husband said, with the gentle voice he only used when speaking to her in private. “You are mine, and I’m yours. Yours is mine, and mine is yours. It applies to all of ours. Duty, desire, wish, hope, revenge, grief, all of them. It’s a package deal.”

Ah, no matter how obnoxious and self-centered Black☆Star made himself out to be, his inner self was still this gentle and loving man.

“I will go in your stead. I will make sure Maka comes back in one piece.”

Tsubaki responded with a slight frown and thinning her lips.

“Don’t worry, Tsu. Your man is the greatest. Don’t forget that.” He cheeked a toothy grin.

Her belly jumped, startling both of them.

The father-to-be smirked, “Ooooh, you agree with me, kiddo?”

* * *

Maka latched herself behind Soul comfortably as he revved his bike. Black☆Star, however, was sitting tall and proud above Kid’s car, crossing his arms and legs and was looking so pleased with himself. Maka rolled her eyes and wished for a tree branch to knock him off of there.

It was both annoying and calming to have him with her, unfortunately. He _was_ strong.

Professor Stein’s counter circle basically had two main circles. First was the inner circle, which had the five key points where the alchemists would be assigned. Each point was at least one kilometer away from each other, presumably connected by the city’s main water tunnel. The second was the outer circle at the outskirts of the city, where they had to draw a specific alchemy circle in another five points.

The team had been decided. She and Soul, Kid and the Thompsons, Black☆Star with Kilik, Professor Stein by himself (that man was a terrifying force), and lastly Jackie and Kim, with Harvar and Ford as their back-up, considering they never really had any formal military training.

Maka’s team would go with Kid’s, since there were no back alleys around her assigned spot and they could not cause a panic within the city by brandishing firearms and a huge-ass scythe.

Kilik’s team would go to the point farthest from Maka, even though they had to calm Black☆Star’s vehement protests because he wanted to be at least the closest to her. Maka didn’t let herself be babied, though, and besides, that point was actually one of the most dangerous ones and Black☆Star was—begrudgingly speaking—their best fighter.

Jackie’s team would go to the other point closest to Maka—hence, also farthest from Kilik—because Kilik’s and Jackie’s alchemy was similar; both stemmed from the fire alchemy. They would resonate stronger from the opposite sides.

Professor Stein, naturally, would go to the most dangerous point. No argument needed.

Miss Marie would go to Papa’s team, asking them to divert their track—which supposed to end precisely at the whole circle’s midpoint—and have them positioned on the outer five points while the alchemists took their positions in the inner circle. It was a tough job, to distract Spirit Albarn in the middle of his revenge mission. But Miss Marie had the unique ability to persuade people, either by words or violence.

The last resonance she did with Soul before the mission was on the outskirts of East City. She was horrified to find that, with Soul’s ability to amplify her perception, she could sense the numerous chimeras squirming around right under the citizen’s feet.

She wanted to throw up. Their souls were neither animals’ nor humans’, but the only similarity between them was the amount of their suffering.

There was no Mama, which she noted with an aching stab in her heart, but the huge wall she sensed under Amestris’s land was present, sickening as ever, disrupting the Dragon’s Path.

She paid no mind to that, however, as the wall’s presence was normal.

And there, in some of their assigned spots, she could sense the immortals, waiting silently with their disturbing souls.

Soul transmuted out of her hand, and in an instant, a hand was placed on her shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly. Maka brought her own hand to cover his. It was okay if they couldn’t find Mama today. She could always search for her later. They still had three hundred and twenty thousand lives to save.

It was somehow calming to think that Mama would certainly make the same choice.

“Okay, from here, we’ll split up to our own assigned point. Everyone please look out for any individual with an Ouroboros tattoo. If you do meet them, your priority is to protect your alchemist partner, okay?” Professor Stein commanded so casually, one would think they were just a bunch of schoolkids on a study tour.

“Yes, Sir!”

All of the other teams were gone, other than Maka’s team and Kid’s. They would infiltrate through the same route and branched right in the middle.

Maka stared at the Ishvalan boy beside her. His face was clear, a slightly excited look, for those who didn’t know him that well, but Maka could recognize his slightly tense smile and a certain fear looming inside his eyes, which was hidden behind his usual sunglasses.

“Thank you… For being here…” Maka hesitated for a moment before linking their hands. “I know it’s difficult for you, I’m being selfish again…”

He rolled his eyes, “Stop saying such creepy things, geez.”

Maka smiled wryly. He was being sarcastic; he really was nervous.

“Thank you anyway,” she repeated, melancholic, but he turned his head away, ears suspiciously pink.

“Alright, lovebirds over there! Stop producing pinky smokes, god! Let’s go!” Liz’s voice startled both of them.

“We’re not lovebirds!”

“Yeah, yeah, and I’m the Führer.”

“Liz!”

* * *

They had just stepped into the first zone, for the love of Ishvala.

It was right before their splitting point, and now they had dozens of chimeras surrounding them from all sides. Soul instinctively placed himself in front of Maka, one hand in hers, ready to transmute into a scythe at any given moment.

“We’ll take care of this. You’re the center of our plan, Maka, you go first,” Reaper Colonel commanded flatly, clearly used to this kind of thing. “Patty, make a path. Liz, you handle the rear.”

Soul heard a faint _‘Roger!’_ from the thing in the colonel’s ears as Patty chimed with “Kaaay!!”

The elder Thompson had left a while ago to take a position from a tower nearby, assuming her role as the colonel’s ‘hawk-eye’. Soul had witnessed the Gunslinger Sisters’ shooting practice once, and yeah, their skills were the real deal.

Goosebumps suddenly creeped through him when Patty’s expression changed disturbingly fast. She threw the top half of her uniform and the coat away, leaving only the blue pants and a black tank top, revealing a body full of firearms and ammunition. Soul knew a bit much about guns from his years of harsh military training—and from the weeks he spent in Sid’s shop, immediately recognizing the firearm slung over her shoulder as a submachine gun, even though he couldn’t tell what was the model. The dual pistols inside her shoulder holsters were certainly Berettas. And yep, those were 40mm grenades belted around her waist. How she could hide all of those under her uniform was beyond him.

The young sergeant giggled maniacally as she took one of her Beretta out of its holster while her right hand casually loaded a grenade launcher. Childish excitement was gone, replaced by a deranged grin.

“Time to paaaartyyyy!” Patty sang as she pulled the trigger. Grenade blasted out in front of them, killing at least five of the beasts.

Reaper Colonel’s steps were as calm and elegant as if he was taking a morning walk. The chimeras on the front would be reduced to splinters by the younger sister’s grenades, and the ones attacking from behind would have their brains blasted by the older sister’s .50 BMG bullets.

But there was no time to be distracted. The Thompsons really were skilled, but they were still outnumbered. Soul snarled as a wolf-like chimera nearly bit Maka’s leg. The realization that just a second of a spaced-out mind could cause a grave injury for Maka made his heart beat ten times faster. Maka’s disapproving look went unnoticed by him as he thoughtlessly transmuted his arm to cover her.

It was marginally easier to say he wouldn’t transmute by himself again in a calm ruin under the quiet stars, but it was painfully different when she was inches away from bleeding to death, so his mind just obediently gave in to his instinct.

The creature was quickly beheaded by a swift chop of his arm-blade, however, and with a single exchange of their eyes, he extended his hands to touch hers.

Her new transmutation circles reacted to his skin in an instant, producing a pair of bright green angel wings that engulfed him in their lights. He landed in her hands as a scythe, which she swung widely to slash three chimeras in a single attack.

Soul was starting to get used to the slight thrilling sensation when Maka’s alkahestry flowed through him.

Whatever their thoughts were, they both were really getting stronger together as one.

* * *

Kilik really was having the time of his life.

Together with Star, the both of them morphed into a silver bullet that blasted through the thick wall of chimeras, bolting blindly to their assigned spot. With both his automails and Black☆Star’s tremendous fighting skills, the supposedly dangerous chimera felt like domesticated puppies. Except that he would never hurt a real puppy.

Their smooth progress couldn’t last forever, unfortunately, when one of the beasts mauled Black☆Star right on his face.

“Black☆Star!” Kilik shouted as the engineer hurtled back at least fifteen meters away.

Kilik’s attention instantly snapped to the responsible chimera, only to find that it wasn’t. It was definitely humanoid, big, burly, with black skin and a weird X crossing their face. What made Kilik’s movement halted altogether was a certain tattoo on the tongue they displayed when they licked their lower lip.

Oh, snap. It was the Ouroboros.

“What the ever-loving Chicken Quesadillas just happened?!” Black☆Star was already springing back to life, eagerly calculating their new enemy.

“I think it’s one of the immortals Maka’d been—Hey, Star!” Kilik shouted, watching helplessly as the loud man hooted and propelled himself to the homunculus, only to be splatted back to the faraway building.

He quickly popped out of the rubble, however, happily hollering, “He got _SPUNK!!_ I LOVE IT!!!”

“BLACK☆STAR, YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO KILL IT, NOT ADMIRE IT!!”

“FUCK YOU, RUNG!! I CAN DO BOTH!!” Star’s bellow echoed wildly through the abandoned facility as he engaged the homunculus with an excited grin. One would think that he was a child on christmas tearing up their presents instead of a grown ass man fighting a creature of nightmare.

Covering his eyes, Kilik shook his head and smirked. _Fire_ crackled joyfully as he prepared to fry the remaining chimeras.

Who could blame the enthusiastic engineer? Even _he_ had been enjoying this fight immensely.

* * *

The team with the smoothest route might be them, Oscar concluded, as the slashing, splatting, and gunfire noises echoed loudly from the communication device in his hands. Seemed like the other team had a hell of a time just getting to their assigned spots.

Jackie was already sitting on her specified point, with Miss Kim sitting beside her and started doing the nonsense couples did, like feeding each other sweet breads and braiding hair. Seriously, where did they get the sweet bread?

Oscar squinted annoyedly at his partner, who was determined to ignore the couple and had his ultimate flat face on display.

He sighed. He also wanted a sweet bread.

* * *

Frank casually puffed out a smoke ring, ignoring the blasts and shrills coming from his communication device.

_Ah, youngsters... how energetic._

It took him a total of thirty minutes to get to his assigned point; his fighting skills must be dulled from lack of use for the past ten years. Kamiko would laugh at him if she was there.

He slightly shifted the tiny mountain of chimera corpses which he’d been using as a waiting chair. Maybe it was not a good idea to sit on something with too many sharp claws.

* * *

Spirit stared at a determined Marie, trying and failing to muster a rage after hearing the dreadful news she just said.

That fucking mad scientist actually _did_ the opposite of what he was ordered to!

Part of Spirit’s minds blamed his own decision to trust Frank. Of course he would do this, he was Frank N. Stein; the man who dodged the Führer’s direct orders for morning exercise.

Maybe he was part of why Maka had a troublesome tendency to disobey orders.

But Spirit couldn’t just ignore Marie’s other warning that three hundred and twenty thousand lives would be lost if he refused to work together with them. A very Frank thing to do, seriously, forcing him to cooperate by telling the whole plan right when there was no time to think of another solution anymore. Both Frank and himself knew that he would never agree to this plan if they talked about this over coffee in his office the day before. And he also sent Marie, on top of that. The bastard knew Spirit was weak for her determined eyes.

So he had no choice but to stifle his boiling blood and sigh, gesturing for Azusa to come. “Major Yumi, split the group into five, each one to be positioned at one of these points. Captain Law, you take a small team and make sure the inner circle is evacuated. Do it silently. Don’t alarm the citizens.”

“On it, Sir,” Azusa and Justin both saluted and went to the rest of the group. Spirit turned to Marie, and for once, really angry.

“Where is that bastard? I will kill him for dragging my daughter to this kind of place!”

And, for once, with a beaming smile, Marie refused to talk.

* * *

Maka skidded to a stop, lowering Soul as he transmuted back into human and landed lightly on his feet.

They had been separated from Kid’s group right after she wielded Soul. One of the chimeras had pushed her through a manhole down to the city’s water tunnel. It was okay, though. They were still on track. The point they were assigned to was underground.

They walked and walked and walked through the dark water tunnel, until it transformed into a slightly bigger one, which led to a dimly lit underground base right on their assigned spot. By the looks of things, it was an alchemy lab. How ironic.

She could feel Soul tensed beside her. The place’s atmosphere was indeed far more intimidating than any of her Mama’s labs. The back of her mind wondered if it was similar to the place he had been confined, and the thought sent a jarring bolt of fury through her spine.

Hardening her face, Maka held out her hand. Soul was glancing away, his cheeks pinking, but he took it anyway.

“S’embarrassing...” he mumbled, aware that she did that to calm him. Well, he had a right to be embarrassed, Maka couldn’t deny that the gesture made him look like a five-year-old child reassured by their mother.

“If it makes you feel better, I also feel uncomfortable,” she mumbled back, which was not a lie.

Soul responded with his toothache grin. He still grumbled about it being completely unnecessary, however, muttering that he could walk on his own just fine. His half-hearted protest and his contrasting gesture of squeezing her hand tighter made Maka chuckle. The creepy place didn’t feel that intimidating when he was being utterly endearing.

Yet, Maka’s chuckle died down when they stepped into the next room, the former light atmosphere quickly dissolved into that of a horror.

Taking this route was a mistake.

There, in front of them, was a path made by two rows of liquid-filled giant tubes, each containing a slightly disfigured corpse, various types of steel blades protruding from different places of their bodies. All of them had white hair and tan complexions, their lifeless eyes a disturbing shade of red. A straight diagonal scar was present on each of their torsos, reminiscent of Soul’s own.

Maka wanted to puke.

The room was horrifyingly silent. She couldn’t hear anything besides Soul’s ragged breathing and a choked gasp of _‘Wes…’_ But it was enough to pull her out of her own shock and give more attention to her dear friend.

He looked truly aghast, completely paralyzed and disoriented by pure terror. His face paled to white, beads of cold sweat ran down his neck as the hand in her fingers started to tremble uncontrollably.

“Soul? Soul!” she tore herself off her own horror and frantically tapped her hand on his cheek, but Soul was unresponsive.

Suddenly, Maka was filled with anger. But strangely, instead of being reckless and brash like she always did whenever she was mad, she was unnervingly calm. She pulled the trembling boy to her, gently hiding his face on her collarbone.

“It’s okay, Soul. Don’t look.”

She felt something wet and hot trailing down her neck along with Soul’s silent sobs. Grinding her teeth, she swore she would punish whoever responsible with her own hands. She waited until he was stable enough—which took a lot longer than she would like—and herded him out of that cursed place while squeezing his hands as softly as she could with her own shaking hands.

“It’s okay. They’re not Wes. They’re not you,” she hummed those words again and again. Even though she was overwhelmed, she couldn’t imagine how he must feel. Her dread must pale in comparison to his horror. She didn’t know what else to say. So she just kept repeating those words, “I’m here. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

The horrendous path seemed to be endless. Maka tried her hardest not to count the bodies in that place, concentrating solely to calm the only Ishvalan alive in that room. They were really lucky Soul didn’t fall into a total breakdown like what happened in Little Hook. Maka would be absolutely terrified if he did, aware of her previous inability to bring him back from the depths of his own mind.

It felt like forever, walking through that path, but at last, they managed to stagger into the next room, which was blessedly empty. They broke down on the floor and just silently held each other for a while before she felt it was okay to gently nudge Soul and pry him off her shoulder.

“A little better?”

A startled choke escaped Soul’s mouth. He gulped and nodded shakily, maybe didn’t trust his voice enough to use words. She reluctantly turned back to the vile room, sending a transmutation to form a solid wall between them and the bodies, removing them out of sight. She used a long-distance transmutation, of course, there was no way she would leave Soul’s side. And besides, there was no way she could hold her stomach and approach that place to transmute it directly.

Maka exhaled, squaring her shoulders up and gently tugging a still-shaking Soul. He complied silently, trying his best to not look behind and followed her further into the dimly-lit facility.

What other horrible things would they find in this hellhole?

She steeled up her shoulders and tugged Soul to stand. “You okay?” she asked. She knew he was certainly the furthest from okay, but she tried anyway.

“Just… Just let me be a scythe,” he mumbled to his shoes. “Hurt less,” he added, as if it was a proper explanation.

Maka pulled her lips into an unsettled line, but she held out her hands anyway, and in a few seconds Soul was already a lethal weapon in her hands.

She jogged to their assigned spot with a disturbed mind. Was that green soul she’d sensed yesterday real? If it was, then what was Mama doing in a horrible place like this? Why wouldn’t she come home?

Her steps automatically stopped when they reached their destination, and Maka just stood there, staring blankly at the dirty floor.

 _“Maka?”_ came Soul’s worried voice from the scythe.

This boy, really, how could he worry about her when his own mind was on the edge of devastation?

Blinking rapidly, she sucked a breath. “I’m okay. Sorry!”

She pulled a communication device out of her trench coat’s inner breast pocket, trying to put the earpiece on. Those things were supposed to help them get a precise timing to activate their circles at the same time. But before her hand reached her ear, something made Maka froze and forgot the entire mission.

She sensed green.

Her whole body turned at the direction of the familiar soul. Without her awareness, the communication device slipped from her hands and landed on the dirty floor, pitifully left behind as she dashed madly to one direction.

She didn’t realize she was heading right to the center of the circle. She didn’t even hear Soul’s yells. There was just one thing in her mind:

_She sensed green._

* * *

Soul didn’t fully understand what was happening.

Half of him was still distracted by that dreaded room full of his brothers and sisters' bodies. And the other half was relentlessly trying to block his Demon out of his brain. But Maka's sudden dash brought him back to the present.

She appeared a little unbalanced, madly dashing to one direction. She didn’t even hear his yells, and that worried him so much.

His suspicion proved true when she stopped suddenly and let go of him before crouching down to touch the floor in a familiar manner she always did when she was checking the Dragon Path. Her mouth muttered nothing but 'Mama'.

From his scythe that was lying helplessly on the floor, Soul could get a good view of the place they were barging in.

It was shaped like a dome, with white granite walls that made it look like the inside of an egg.

"Mama!" Maka's shout jerked him back from inspecting the architecture. She turned her head to his blade. "Soul, Mama is right under us! Let's transmute this floor open!" she commanded hastily, picking him up.

But before they could do anything, a sweet voice purred from the darkness behind them.

"Well, look at who we have here."

His Demon was giggling.

Maka turned around, letting him see the new person as well. But he couldn't see much, because most of their features were still veiled by the darkness.

"I honestly didn't think that you would actually come here with just that simple bait. Didn't your dear Professor warn you of me, Little Miss Grigori?"

Maka raised him to a fighting stance, guardedly glaring at the stranger. "Who are you?"

"Oh, where are my manners?" The strangers produced a melodious laugh before stepping fully into the light. She was a slender woman, with blonde hair braided on her chest and a pair of yellow eyes, her slit pupils made her look like a snake.

"I am the embodiment of Pride. Maybe you would recognize me among the renowned scientists as ‘Medusa’."

Soul did not know if he could feel a shiver while in the scythe from, but he certainly felt a sickening dread flowing through his soul.

This was the exact same feeling he had the first time they met the homunculi. Only a hundred times worse.

Being in the same room as this person—this creature, stirred his blood so much Soul was struggling to focus.

No.

No, no, no, no, no!

It was that woman!

It was the same woman who led the Black Blood Project before Mrs. Kamiko took the control. She looked exactly like she did over fifteen years ago, which sent disturbing memories and dreadful cries back to the front of his brain.

His Demon's giggles transformed to cackles.

Soul cursed. If he hadn't been in his scythe form, he was sure he would've lost control over himself. That woman's sickening aura was drawing his Blood in, as if forcing him to resonate within a madness.

 _"Maka! She's dangerous! Let's get out of here!"_ he shouted, but she was deaf of his cries.

Medusa—Pride—whoever the fuck she was, tilted her head and focused her eyes on his blade, a predatory smile on her face.

"Ahhh, yes… the weapon…" the homunculus talked to him as if he was her precious baby. "Are you Number 563 or Number 564?"

Soul's mind was so full of one very sophisticated word:

Fuck.

 _"Maka, god fucking dammit, GO!"_ he shouted again, fortunately succeeding to kick her back to action.

Two things happened at the same time. One, there was something like shadows creeping around homunculus Pride, and it started attacking them, making fire sparks whenever Maka tried to block it with his blade.

Two, there was a distinctly unhinged yell as something pink attacked them from behind. It was the Wrath. Crona.

They were against two homunculi.

His Demon now laughed insanely.

Soul tried his best to cling onto his sanity, but one hard blow from Wrath launched him out of Maka's grasp, accompanied by Maka's loud shriek.

Swiftly, he transformed back to human in midair, landed smoothly on the floor, and immediately propelled himself back to Maka. Their hands touched as green angel wings sparked, and in the next second, he was already in her hands as a scythe.

Pride let out an astonished noise. "So you're Number 564, then?" she said. "I was hoping for your big brother, but oh well, you will do."

Still sending transmutations to attack Wrath, Maka barked, "YOU WILL NEVER HAVE HIM!!"

But the homunculus Pride just let out a purring laugh. "Oh, I'm not so sure, Little Miss Grigori."

As soon as she said that, her shadows began attacking them. Maka had done astounding by blocking the attacks effectively, but she was clearly outnumbered, and in Pride's case, outmatched. Bruises started to form all over her body.

While they were ferociously trying to stay alive, Pride walked towards the spot Maka had crouched earlier. She closed her eyes as Wrath did a particularly nasty kick onto Maka's stomach, forcing air out of her lungs and flinging her right into Pride's shadow trap.

 _"MAKA, LOOKOUT!!"_ Soul yelled, but it was too late.

She was caught in a living web of shadows, their dark limbs strangled her up like snakes.

"You know, using your mother as a bait was so effective, indeed," Pride purred, pulling her shadow closer to where she stood, dragging Maka and Soul along with it.

Hearing about her mother, Maka stopped trashing, instead fixing a glare full of hatred at the homunculus.

"What have you done to her?! Give her back!!"

"What makes you think she didn't come to my side out of her own will?" Pride challenged. 

Maka made a sadistic and condescending smirk that sent shivers through Soul's being. It was so close to what Mrs. Kamiko would show when she decided to be merciless.

"My mother would never stoop so low and join a scumbag like you," she taunted.

A resounding slap was heard when Pride flung her hand at Maka's cheek. The calm face the homunculus was wearing rapidly shifted to an intense disgust. She yanked Maka's face and brought it to her, her nails digging into Maka's cheeks and producing beads of blood.

Soul was beyond furious, but he couldn't afford to attract unnecessary attention, as he was trying to shift his scythe's weight little by little so his blade could touch the ground.

"You are as disgusting as your mother," Pride dictated. "But you still have a use. Both of you."

She let go of Maka's face and stepped back. Wrath was already at her side, bristling with unknown fury, though they were only standing silently, as if waiting for the next order.

"You know why I made this circle, Little Miss Grigori?"

Maka spat out blood to Pride's feet. "Why should I care about your fucking disgusting ambitions?"

She got a hard slap again.

"Language. Tsk, tsk. What had your useless mother taught you?" Pride shook her head in a completely fake concern. "And it's not ambition, my dear, it's _my right._ "

"Killing thousands of lives and turning them into a rock is your right?! What a nasty bitch."

This time, the slithering shadows all over Maka's body tightened their strangles. Maka's scream muffled a sound that Soul was pretty sure was a cracked rib.

 _"Maka, oh my fucking god!"_ Soul screamed in exasperation through their bond.

It wasn't like he did not agree with her words, but hell, couldn't she think a bit more about her own situation? Damn girl didn't have an inch of self-preservation bone in her body!

"What an arrogant little girl. When we're finished I promise to give you a slow and painful death."

Maka just made a smirk that could very well meant 'Try your best, then,' and Soul had to suppress the urge to strangle her himself. Forget hemochromatosis, his actual reason for dying was obviously gonna be from all the blood pressure Maka inflicted to his heart.

"You won't be as proud when the Gate is opened, Miss Grigori," Pride trailed her sharp nail along Maka's bleeding cheeks. 

"Do you know what made humans able to do transmutations?" the homunculus inquired. Maka just sent back her fiercest glare. "You're right. Their inner Gate." 

Soul was still concentrating to shift his weight. A little bit more. Just a little bit more.

"Unfortunately us homunculi weren't born with our own Gate. Because we were… just parts of a whole one." Pride's entire being became a touch darker when she said the last part. But then she smiled, her tone suddenly was all sugar, "Do you want to find out what would happen if I try to open your Gate, then use the Philosopher's Stone and your… Ah! _'Alkahestry'_ , to move the Gate from your soul to mine?"

For the first time, Maka's face paled. As well as Soul's, if he was in a human form, actually. The idea of Maka being stripped out of her alchemy was an eternal amount of wrong. But to give that ability to someone as dangerous as Pride—as the scientist _Medusa_ , it was beyond catastrophic.

Howbeit, Soul had more important things to do. His blade had finally touched the ground.

_"Maka, transmute!!"_

She instantly followed his command. Her alkahestry flowed through him into the ground, making a thin and sharp granite blade protruding out of the floor, cutting Pride's shadow from Maka's body.

Graciously, Maka circled his handle and positioned him to a slashing stance. With a quick, wide horizontal slash, Maka sliced both homunculi into two.

Maka landed a few meters away from the grotesque corpses, catching breaths and coughing blood. Their enemies were still alive, undoubtedly, but at least, they had bought som time to set their heads straight.

 _"You fucking madwoman!"_ Soul complained loudly.

Maka, despite all of his exasperations and curses, _laughed_. He cursed some more.

But then his Demon also laughed, absolutely ecstatic because of the earlier gore.

"Soul? Soul, what happened?!"

Soul's self-control went haywire for a second before he could anchor himself again. Fucking insane gremlin.

 _"Yeah, I'm o_ —"

"It's time," interrupted a chilling voice.

They fearfully lifted their eyes to see _Pride_ standing before them, face displaying a smooth benevolent look. The creepy woman clearly had stalked closer when they were panicking about his Demon.

 _Fuckin_ —

“Now, Miss Grigori Alchemist, do the transmutation.”

Maka snarled, “Never!”

Pride’s expression didn’t shift one bit, “Oh, I’m not asking.”

In an instant, Soul was tackled away from Maka’s hand, harshly landed onto the floor as a human and instantly pinned down by Wrath. At the same time, a dozen black arrows spreaded from Maka’s behind and dragged her down to the Homunculus Pride. Medusa’s shadow scattered quickly to form a very complicated array with Maka perfectly in the center; an alchemy circle that Soul was perfectly sure was for human transmutation.

Pride’s voice was honey-sweet, “I am commanding.”

Along with Maka’s agonized scream, the circle glowed purple and strange black hands ghosted from the circle, flailing at nothing like creepy flows of black hair.

“MAKA!!!” Soul shouted helplessly under Wrath’s weight, struggling closer to the circle without success. “MAKA!! MAKA!!!”

But what he could heard was nothing but screams.

Soul's entire being was engulfed in terror. Far more horrifying than when they walked across the bodies of his kin.

_He knew Maka’s screams would haunt him for the rest of his life._

* * *

When their surroundings were blanketed in a purple light, Oscar was sure.

The original circle had been activated.

They survived solely because they were standing in those five counterattack points. And if they didn’t activate the reverse circle before the night ended, there was no more tectonic energy to restore the citizens’ souls back to their bodies.

“It’s Albarn,” Harvar said, holding out his own communication device, which was producing no sound. His face and voice were still infuriatingly calm as ever, but Oscar knew his partner enough to tell he was worried.

In a second, Oscar understood. If they were down an alchemist, it was over.

But before they could think about what should be done, a person approached them. Well, it was not quite ‘a person’. Oscar couldn’t place his finger on it but they definitely didn’t feel quite like a human. Harvar instinctively fired his revolver, but the creature leaped inhumanly high before the bullet hit them.

Moonlight illuminated their features, and Oscar gasped.

It was a woman. She had two dots on the corners of her mouth, and a pair of big and shiny eyes. The hands that were gluing her body onto the walls had webbings between the fingers. It was obvious what kind of animal that had been fused with the woman’s body.

The chimera woman's eyes were unfocused and a little deranged, but none of them thought that she was an easy fight.

Seeing Miss Kim’s arm turning hairy was one thing, but seeing a perfect human-frog hybrid dodging a bullet with superhuman moves was another matter entirely. Holy, they really _did_ make chimeras from humans.

Miss Kim hissed.

“Just go,” Miss Jackie said in a low voice, positioning herself so that she could protect Miss Kim easily. To the human-chimera, Miss Jackie taunted, “I heard frogs hate fire.”

Oscar exchanged a nod with Harvar, dashing to Albarn and Evans’s point. He managed a glance over his shoulder, right when the two women’s surroundings became walls of fire.

Scary. For a person with fire as her power, Miss Jackie’s coldness was chilling.

* * *

There was nothing Soul could hear.

Devastated might represent what he felt, but it was not quite right. It was like comparing the buzzing sound of a puny fly to the painful roar of a dying dragon.

Spirit was right. She shouldn’t have gone to this place. She should have stayed home. Damn it, Spirit was right.

Without her, the world was dark.

Empty.

Lifeless.

Cruel.

Terrifying.

Everything ached. Ached so unbearably much.

The morbid idea that he might not see her again unleashed a certain overwhelming emotion he couldn’t name or even knew of its existence.

Then something clicked.

_Oh._

It was love.

He loved her.

He’d never tried to think of her as someone other than that _little faceless girl_ ; that kind daughter of that woman, the replacement of his lost savior. He’d always dismissed everything about her as an extension of that woman he forbiddenly saw as a mother. But when his perspective finally snapped into place, everything was painfully clear.

She was her own person.

And he had been so blind.

 _God_ must have laughed maniacally when _He_ planned for him to realize it right after he lost her. Seriously, if his very soul didn’t feel like combusting right then and there, he would laugh.

Damn it, Spirit was right.

What wouldn’t he give for Maka to come back? For him to turn back time so he could lock her up himself? So she would never have to go to this hellhole in the first place?

He would give anything. Anything.

He would drink the Black Blood a thousand times, burning his cells over and over again, if it meant that he could bring her back.

He would go back to those labs, strapped onto the operation table and being dissected like a worthless lab rat, if it meant that he could save her.

 _Just please_ , he pleaded to whoever was listening, _he just wanted to see her again._

He couldn’t feel anything. Even his Demon was silent.

He was numb.

But fuck did his chest hurt.

He loved her.

God, he loved her.


	8. The Gate of Truth Isn’t As Charming As The Rumor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Soul, would you come with me?”
> 
> “Do you even need to ask? I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoooooo, after a whole fukkin year, I finally completed this thing /cries/
> 
> Big thanks to sis Bulan, Chloe, Kiz, Lils, and Tori who helped me completing the last half ily guys you're all a godsend ToT
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for all of you who patiently waited for this story, and no, their adventure is not gonna stop here, the sequel, Equinox, will come to you soon!

_“Why?! Why did you sacrifice your own Gate?!”_

_“Your Blood is not enough.”_

_“I said I don’t care if I die!”_

_“I want both of you to live, Wezen.”_

* * *

Liz didn’t know if they were lucky or not.

They were certainly the last team to get to their assigned spot. They had been separated from Maka and Evans almost an hour ago, but none of them paid attention to the time because of the insane amount of chimeras they had to fight just to get Kid to his exact assigned point. Liz had grumbled rather awfully to her Colonel. Wasn’t their assigned spot not supposed to be the hard one?

But then, their team’s focus was shattered by the purple glow that suddenly engulfed everything. Pat shouted something anxiously into her communication device, but Liz couldn’t hear her even though she had her earpiece on. She just barked at her dumb Colonel to get his ass to his assigned spot, which was just about a hundred meters forward from where he was standing.

The glow dimmed, but now a dreadful silence replaced it.

The whole place was filled by the chimeras’ growls just five minutes before, but now everything was silent. Liz felt a sickening chill run down her spine.

“Kid, quick!” Liz shouted again.

Yet, before he could kick himself into action, Liz saw a big blur of black slamming itself to Kid through her sniper scope. Her shrill of surprise was unheard by her other two partners as Patty launched herself to attack the new enemy, giving Kid time to recover.

Pat proceeded to take on the big guy with her punches and kicks, but the enemy didn't even lose their calmness. That was a direful sign, because Pat was someone who could fistfight evenly with Black☆Star. 

Seeing her sister gradually losing the fight, Liz was itching to help, but she couldn’t risk hitting her own sister. Even though she was an expert sniper, she couldn’t do a miracle of only hitting one person in a fast-paced fistfight.

“Kid, hurry up your ass, dammit!” Liz barked into her mic.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Kid propelled himself back to the enemy right when Patty was thrown over his head into another building with a dangerous crumble.

“PATTY!!!!!” Liz’s dread echoed in the tiny room for no one to hear.

No! Not her sister!

But out there, Kid didn’t stop and flung himself to the enemy with a furious scream, both his alchemy circles sparked dangerously. Liz had to force herself out of her own panic if she had to assist her Colonel. Pat would be alright, Liz convinced herself. Her sister was insanely strong.

Kid tried to transmute their enemy, but they caught both of his hands easily, holding him still and lowering their arms to show Kid their lazy smirk. Through her scope, Liz finally could take a good look at their new enemy’s face.

_“Nice to meet you, Little Human. I am Free the Sloth!”_

Oh, shit.

Kid kicked himself away from the Sloth’s grasp and whispered into his mic, an audible tremble in his voice, _“Liz…”_

She gulped. She knew.

He was a burly man, with _‘NO FUTURE’_ tattooed across his left eyebrow. And there… in his eye, right under that ridiculous tattoo, was a symbol she knew too well.

_“His left eye… is the Ouroboros.”_

Ah fuck, they scored.

She was both excited and anxious to finally be able to shoot a homunculus. But she should wait. She was his hawk-eye. She had codes to hear and orders to carry out. Their enemy couldn’t die; she would most likely have to shoot non-stop. She couldn’t waste a bullet.

 _“Do you know who killed the former Führer?”_ came Kid’s chilling question through Liz’s earpiece.

Her eyes widened. No. No. No. What was he doing? It was not the time for that! They had to get past this guy! If she had guessed right, then that previous purple light was the giant human transmutation circle being activated and the citizens had been turned into alchemical energy—philosopher’s stone—whatever crap it was! She had no idea why they were still alive, but it was a chance, dammit! It meant they could still fight!

They must activate the counter-circle before the night ended, but if there was one alchemist missing, they would be left in a sinking ship, and the lives of three hundred and twenty thousand people would be lost! Did he even think of that?!

But she couldn’t do anything. She was over two hundred meters away from them, at the top of a building. Kid had switched his earpiece off, only leaving the mic to give her commands.

Shit. Where was Patty? Did she make it?

 _“The former Führer? Aaah… you mean that old geezer? Yeah, I’m the one who killed him. Best job I’ve ever had,”_ the bastard said in a sleepy and bored voice, as if he was admitting something as mundane as eating the last cookie off the cookie jar _._ The finger on the rifle’s trigger trembled as Liz gritted her teeth. _“Wait… You’re Kristopher Morton, right? Hey, you have the same name as that man!”_ the homunculus cackled. His dumb laugh ringed annoyingly in Liz’s earpiece. What wouldn’t she give to pull the trigger right then and there.

 _“I see,”_ Kid spoke. There was something unnerving with the way he talked. Liz didn’t like it. _“Thanks for the information. Now you just have to kneel and beg for me to spare your life.”_

Liz shuddered. She heard her code, yes, but something was wrong with how he worded it.

_“Feh! Why do I have to—!”_

_“Kneel!!”_

A gunshot was heard right after Kid said the word. The homunculus roared in pain when his right kneecap got crushed, his blood spurting like creepy fireworks. As expected from Northern-made firearms, truly a work of art. Liz cocked the rifle and was ready to take the next shot.

_“YOU SON OF A BITCH—”_

Again, Liz’s .50 BMG bullet pierced the homunculus’s forehead before he could even stand.

Aim. Shoot. Pull. Aim. Shoot. Pull. Aim. Shoot.

She didn’t give the homunculus time to heal himself. She had to finish this now or Kid could really lose himself. Her autopilot movement stopped when the magazine ran out of bullets. She was just about to attach a new one when Kid’s voice commanded, _“Enough, Liz. I’ll take care of it from here.”_

“No!” she shouted, but there was no way he could hear her.

No, no, no!

Liz’s body shuddered as she pictured Kid radiating his cold wrath. Apart from the time limit of their current mission, she absolutely didn’t want to see him like that; to lose himself into a rage, to revert back to that bitter child lusting for vengeance instead of the kind man who offered her and her sister a safe place to call home.

He had saved her from turning into a monster for protecting her sister, and damn it to hell and back if she couldn’t save him from turning into a monster for demanding a justice he so painfully deserved.

 _“A sound soul dwells in a sound mind and a sound body,”_ Kid started chanting _those words_.

Fuck!

 _“I have been told that you have hundreds of souls inside you,”_ he drawled. Liz saw him tilting his head left and right through her sniper scope, blue light sparked from both of his alchemy gloves. There was no emotion left in his voice. With that kind of tone, he really did fit his title as the Reaper.

_“I wonder; how would it feel if I rip those souls from you one by one?”_

Feeling a cold sweat running down her face, Liz picked her shotgun, discarding the Northern sniper rifle in the building. That thing was gorgeous, but she would be crushed under its weight if she carried it while running. She scaled the building down as fast as she could. The transmutation sounds rang hauntingly loud from her earpiece.

_Please let her make it!_

“Kid!”

The homunculus was already screaming.

“Kid! Kristopher!”

She could already see him, but he was deaf to her cries. Even her warning shot seemed like a passing mosquito for him. Patty materialized on her side, reloading her Berretta and snapping the slide. She was bleeding from her head and her nose, scratch marks and bruises decorated her entire body.

A wave of relief washed through Liz. Despite her horrible look, her sister was safe. But she could not let herself be overjoyed; they still had a colonel to slap back into his senses.

Liz turned her gaze back to their superior, who was still enjoying ripping the homunculus’s souls one by one. A slight chuckle from Kid’s mouth sent goosebumps down her spine. He looked as calm as ever, but that slight grin was anything but sane.

“KID, GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!!”

Pissed, Liz pumped her shotgun and aimed. The falling empty shell echoed awfully loud in her ear. There was no clear line between her and the homunculus without her hitting Kid first, but Thompson Sisters wouldn’t be called The Demon Gunslingers for nothing.

She shifted her aim at a metal railing and pulled the trigger. The bullet ricocheted and hit Sloth straight in the head.

“Patty, take care of the creep!” Liz shouted, met by a loud ‘roger’ from her sister. “I’m gonna punch some sense to our dear Colonel.”

“Liz, I said I’ll take over from here,” Kid seethed, still with that horrifyingly cold aura. “Don’t interfere.”

Liz grinded her teeth, and, quite literally, punched some sense into him. The colonel hurled into the nearest wall, spluttering and wiping blood from his face.

“GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF, YOU ASYMMETRICAL GARBAGE!” Liz yanked his collar. “How many times do I have to tell you? They’re not _your_ enemies, they’re _our_ enemies!” She absolutely refused to let a tear roll down her cheek. “Did you forget your promise to me? How could you make a happy home for Patty if you’re turning into a vengeful murderer?”

Kid’s stupid golden eyes widened slightly, his previous anger dissipated as panic seeped into him at the sight of her nearly-spilled tears.

_Liz Thompson didn’t cry._

“Elizabeth, I—”

“Stop it.” Liz let go of him and turned around, denying her tears and embarrassment by concentrating on pumping her shotgun to chamber the next round. “If you have the time to sit down and apologize, get your ass to your post. I have a little sister to save!”

She determinedly kept her gaze to the discarded shell beside her foot. She was absolutely not expecting him to silently approach her from behind and rest his forehead on her shoulder for one perfect second.

“Thank you…”

Liz neglected to reply as she sprinted towards her sister and the homunculus with a newly reloaded shotgun.

She didn’t answer Patty when she asked why she was smiling.

* * *

She opened her eyes.

Everything was white.

There was a huge gate behind her.

A smooth black gate.

Without any carvings or decorations whatsoever.

Oooh, was this it?

The Gate?

The Gate.

Finally, finally, finally.

She was here. And there was a Gate.

Everything was white, but the Gate was black.

Ah, the Gate opened.

There was an eye in it.

Why was it staring at her like that?

Why?

No.

No! Don’t stare at her like that!

What was happening?

There were hands. Black hands.

Ah, it was only her shadow.

But why were they surrounding her?

Why were they dragging her?

No.

No!

Everything went black.

The Gate was closing.

* * *

“Welcome, the embodiment of Pride.”

“You think stealing something powerful makes you great?”

“You are nothing but a cunning thief.”

“Who am I?”

“I am what humans call **the world**.”

“Or **the universe**.”

“Or **God**.”

“Or **Truth**.”

“Or **all**.”

“Or **one**.”

“And I am… **you**.”

“I am the truth of your despair, the inescapable price of your arrogance.”

“And now, I will bestow upon you the despair you deserve.”

“This is the end you wished for.”

* * *

Black☆Star was not someone to show his worry openly. Someone might even say that he could never feel something that ridiculous.

But now when purple light and creepy flows of black hands started to consume everything, the worry was visible on his face.

"Shit! Shitshitshitshitshit!" Kilik cursed harshly from somewhere behind him. "The circle is being activated!"

Black☆Star wanted to demand explanations, but Kilik was too busy barking into his communication device, checking on the other teams. Black☆Star didn't like it. He knew no fear, but the creepy purple light was… if he had to say... _chilling_.

The homunculus they'd been fighting suddenly let out a boisterous laugh, roping their attention back to the creature.

"It's starting! It's starting! Hahahah! She'd done it! She caught the Grigori girl!!!"

The chill in Black☆Star's soul rapidly shifted to dread as he processed the last bit of the homunculus's words.

Without warning, he propelled himself onto the immortal and pinned him down, crushing the guy's arms with his steel-soled boots.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT?!" he demanded with rage bristling in his voice.

The homunculus just giggled as if what he had said was funny. And Black☆Star responded by punching the immortal's face so hard to cause an audible crack to be heard from the immortal's neck. He was never someone with patience.

"SPIT IT OUT, YOU BASTARD!! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MAKA?!"

But the immortal didn't answer, instead cracking his neck back to place with a deranged grin, red sparks lit up as he healed.

Before Black☆Star could attack again, he was yanked back by someone. The nerve! He furiously turned around to see Kilik charging ahead, activating both of his alchemy circles to cage their enemy with lightning and fire.

"The fuck did you do, Rung?!" he snapped at Kilik, but the Major stared back with a serious look.

"Listen, Star, I already contacted the other guys, but can't hear anything from Maka's side. I know we're the farthest but you're also the fastest. And I can't go anywhere. You go to her. I have a bad feeling about this."

Black☆Star blinked several times, his rage replaced by perplexity and a bit of gratitude. "You sure?" he said, jerking his head a bit at the direction of the screaming homunculus.

"Are you doubting my skills?"

Black☆Star smirked. Maybe he would consider placing Kilik at the top of his best bro list. Both men did a quick fist bump before Black☆Star bolted to the direction of Maka's assigned point, yelling over his shoulder, "DON'T DIE ON ME!"

Behind him, Kilik smirked as he turned to face the still-on-flame homunculus, muttering, "As if!"

* * *

Oscar and Harv arrived at Albarn's assigned point short-windedly. Oscar glanced around, still panting, and felt cold ice sunk into his stomach.

There was no sign of Albarn and Evans.

"Where are they?"

Harv crouched somewhere behind him, calling his name as he held out a discarded communication device, which surely belonged to Albarn.

"Fuck!" Oscar cursed.

He always refrained himself from using vulgar languages, but presented with their situation, he couldn't help but yield. Because _where did they go?_ They were inherently fucked if they were down an alchemist.

Loud crash was heard along with rapid footsteps, and when Oscar turned his head, Black☆Star was there, short-winded but seething.

"Where's Maka?!" the automail engineer shouted.

"Why are you here?!" Oscar shouted back.

"Why are _YOU_ here?!" Black☆Star repeated. "And where the fuck is Maka?"

Harvar stared at the bristling man, a flat expression still fixed on his face while he lifted Albarn's discarded earpiece. "We don't know."

Black☆Star let out a thundering scream of fuming exasperation.

Oscar had wanted to do the same, honestly, but he forced his mind to stay sane, calculating hundreds scenarios on why Albarn wasn't here and where she might be. He had to stay calm and think thoroughly. He was the brain of the team.

"Do we have a clue besides the communication device?" he asked Harv.

Harv shook his head. But Star suddenly froze still, hands fisting tightly in his hair and eyes widening.

"Wait, the creepy immortal guy I and Kilik were fighting said something about a woman capturing her when the purple glow started!"

"You fought a hom—"

"Of course!" Oscar interrupted whatever sarcastic disbelief Harvar was gonna say. "She must be taken to the center of the circle! Probably under the building Major General Albarn was supposed to raid!"

It made sense why they hadn't considered that place. Their points were connected in a pentagram. Even Black☆Star wouldn't cross the area even though his original place was almost the opposite direction from here.

"Well, what are we waiting for, then?" Black☆Star urged them, already running.

Oscar and Harv hurried behind the automail engineer, but damn, they really did forget who Black☆Star really was. Not long after, Star had already disappeared from Oscar's vision. His speed was just plain inhuman.

They were somehow lucky because there was no chimera alive when they flew through the city's water tunnel. They must've lost their souls too after the circle was activated.

While running, Oscar's mind ran ten miles a minute, recalling his conversation with Professor Stein about both the circles at the Barrett Gunshop. Meticulously, he searched for a way to fix this mess, and maybe to construct a Plan B or Plan C.

But soon, they were stepping into a weird underground place shaped like the inside of an egg, where everything was silent except for Black☆Star's yell to someone. Oscar looked at the ceiling and deduced that they must be under the East City Museum.

Someone Star'd been yelling at was Evans, apparently.

The Ishvalan man just sat there, with unfocused eyes and dry tears on his dirty cheeks, completely unresponsive even though Black☆Star was rocking his shoulders back and forth.

"SOUL!! SOUL, GODDAMMIT, GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF!! SOUL!!"

But Evans was still silent. 

Oscar approached them to help snapping sense to Evans, but Harv tapped his shoulder and said, "Hey, isn't that guy a homunculus Albarn had fought in Baschool? Pink hair and skinny, right?"

Turning his head to where Harvar was seeing, Oscar gulped. Yes. Not too far from where Evans sat like a hollow soul, there was a person lying unconscious. Oscar couldn't tell their gender, but they had pink hair and a sickly complexion.

Aside from those two, there was no one. No Albarn. No scientist Professor Stein had warned them about.

But something pulled Oscar at one specific point of the room; the center. He hurried there and crouched to find there were scratches and dark marks forming some kind of circle.

Dread washed through him as a conclusion formed in his mind: Albarn was taken as a sacrifice, possibly had vanished into the Gate.

Oh, shit, no! No, no, no!

Oscar had never thought of Albarn as someone he liked. Sometimes he even thought of her as someone to hate, the target of his jealousy and rivalry, and he enjoyed the thought of roasting her or to beat her academically. But to be dragged into the Gate was never something Oscar would wish for her. Or anyone, really.

So he thought hard, squeezing every brain cell he had, to find a way. He looked at his own hands for eternity before one idea slammed him like a wrecking ball.

He could replace Albarn's position as the fifth alchemist.

He _and_ Evans could.

Evans had something similar to Philosopher's Stone to be used to trigger a transmutation, as well as an alkahestry circle to let him guide the alchemical flow, and Oscar had the theoretical knowledge to do the actual process.

With this, he hoped, they could open the Gate a second time, and maybe drag Albarn out.

So without wasting time, Oscar shouted his plan to everyone. Black☆Star opened his mouth to say something, but at the same time, three things happened.

One, someone busted through the room and charged at Black☆Star. For one chilling second, Oscar saw an Ouroboros tattoo on their lolling tongue.

Two, the homunculus who was unconscious started to twitch and groan.

And three, Kilik's slurred voice rang from the communication device, "I'm sorry guys, that creature knocked me out cold."

Oscar's brain cells collectively formed one word:

Shit.

* * *

Everything was dark.

Dark. Dark. Dark.

How could he breath again?

He didn't know what happened around him. He didn't even realize that the Wrath was knocked unconscious by the force of the circle, nor that the homunculus Pride had vanished along with Maka once the purple light died down.

All of that didn’t matter. The most important thing in the world was to bring her back.

To bring Maka back.

But how?

Was that even possible?!

“EVANS!! QUIT LAZING AROUND AND HELP US OVER HERE! DO YOU WANT TO SAVE ALBARN OR NOT?!”

Soul jolted upright.

Far on his left, where Maka was last seen screaming inside a cage of ghostly black hands, were Harvar and Ford.

Honestly, the only words he heard were ‘Albarn’ and ‘save.’ But that was enough to kick his self-loathing ass into action. Tiny spark of hope injected strength to his knees as he dashed towards the two Lieutenants and demanded to know how precisely he could help.

“Basically, we’re gonna do the same thing that Homunculus did,” Ford panted, rambling about his plan in rapid words, “Professor Stein had explained the theory and I understood the material’s structure to do the process, but I don’t have the gift to trigger the alchemical reaction. But if my idea works, I don't need it. We'll use you. You still have the alkahestry circle on your back to connect our key points into a circle. So I will draw the circle and do Albarn's part in the transmutation process while you trigger the transmutation using your Blood. It’s like a heavily condensed philosopher’s stone, right?”

Soul nodded, ignoring the disgust he felt at the comparison.

“Great, then we can use it as the toll to activate the transmutation, like the homunculi did with their Philosopher’s Stone! Both of us can cover Albarn's role!”

Harvard shoved a communication device to Soul's trembling hands. "Here. We'll go back to Albarn's point. You'll need this to hear Ford's command."

"Black☆Star will cover you, don't worry about assaults when we do our plan," Ford nodded to their right, where Black☆Star was engaging the black homunculus Soul remembered to be Gluttony. Soul's eyes widened. He hadn't even heard them coming.

Ford pulled his attention back, pointing to a new circle drawn with chalk in place of Pride's. "You go to that circle I've drawn and put your Blood on it when I give you the command."

Overflowing with newfound strength, Soul walked over the circle Ford had drawn while the two soldiers dashed out of the egg-shaped place.

He waited for the device in his hands to announce Ford's command, still trembling with partial devastation and abundant hope.

Please, please give him a chance to bring her back!

He didn't even hear Gluttony and Black☆Star's fight around him. He just closed his eyes, intensely praying to all gods. To Ishvala, to Leto, to whoever cared to listen to his pleas.

After what felt like eternity, Ford's rough command rang from the speaker, "Now, Evans!"

Gulping, Soul forced his trembling to still and sliced his arm.

_‘Just once, be useful, you little bastard!’_

_‘Is that the attitude to ask for help?’_

But despite the Demon's words, Soul could feel it, that this once, his Blood had actually _listened_ to him.

Blood dripped onto the transmutation circle, only that it was black.

"Done," he said to the mic as the little circle began to glow green.

“Okay, let’s go!” Ford's bark came from the communication device.

Five pillars of blue lights beamed into East City’s sky. Soul put both of his hands over the circle and closed his eyes, recalling the sensation of Maka’s alchemy flowing through him. He let the energy flow, like a river, guiding them naturally until the five points became a circle. He went on, pairing the points one by one, until a star was formed over the circle of light.

For one long second, everything was blanketed in a soft green light.

* * *

Kamiko's ragged breathing halted when she felt an enormous alkahestry energy bursting somewhere above her.

Unknown by everyone, she was caged right under the egg-shaped room, serving as the second sacrifice when Pride forced Maka to do the transmutation.

She didn't have any energy left. Hadn't for a long time. But her smirk grew anyway, because she knew that Pride's plan was being reversed.

Her joy, however, was cut short by a chuckle.

"Oh, so this is where she confined you?" said a man's voice. "By using two different levels exactly under and over Father's Blood, huh. Clever. No wonder your daughter couldn't find you for years."

A gasp left Kamiko's mouth when the man lifted his left hand and stroked his chin in a faux impressed manner. Her eyes were locked on the Ouroboros tattoo on the back of the man's palm.

It was the Greed.

Kamiko gritted her teeth. Part of her was awfully scared, but the other, far bigger piece was seething in anger at the woman who had confined her.

She was the worst being, but at least Kamiko expected her plans to be decent! How could that vile woman be that stupid to let her other _siblings_ to find this place?

"How did you know this place?" Kamiko hissed through her teeth.

Green's smirk didn't even dim.

"Oh, a little priest told me."

* * *

Everything was white.

She opened her eyes.

Everything was white.

And there was a Gate.

No, there were two Gates.

The further one creaked open, and she walked through it.

Everything was white.

A younger Soul was standing with another her.

But there were too many wrong things for them to be a younger Soul and another her.

His jaw was too sharp to be Soul. His chest too broad. His nose too long.

She was too much older to be her. Her hair was much longer. And her eyes were black.

No, they were definitely not a younger Soul and not another her.

“Take my Black Blood. Use it as the toll,” not-a-younger-Soul said.

“Wezen, you’re **both** dying! It’s not gonna be enough!” not-another-her replied.

“Then save him first.”

“But Wezen—”

“I don’t care, save him first.”

Not-another-her and not-a-younger-Soul turned towards a third person, who was laying on a transmutation circle.

Ah. That one was certainly a younger Soul.

Everything was white.

The circle produced a purple light and many black shadows she had seen in another lifetime.

Those shadows crawled like creepy-looking hands, and they were grabbing her.

No, the circle’s shadow didn’t grab her.

It was the shadow hands from the Gate.

The Gate.

The Gate?

And her head exploded.

Everything was black.

* * *

“Welcome, prideful human who doesn’t know their place.”

“For every human who dares to challenge the natural order, a fitting punishment is meted out to put them in their place.”

“I am what humans call **the world**.”

“Or **the universe**.”

“Or **God**.”

“Or **Truth**.”

“Or **all**.”

“Or **one**.”

“And I am… **you**.”

“I will show you the Truth, for the amount of toll you paid.”

“It is an equivalent exchange, right? Alchemist?”

* * *

Soul blinked several times as his eyes adapted to the normal amount of light.

“…Soul?”

He froze.

He was afraid to turn around. He was terrified that it was only his wishful thinking. He would totally break if it really was his imagination.

“Soul?”

There was that voice again, and this time, he dared to turn around.

There she was, sitting confusedly and a little disheveled, as if just waking up from a nap.

Fuck. His heart was going to burst.

She was alive. She was back. She was okay. She was back. She was back!!

“MAKA!” He scrambled madly, dashing to her side with both arms wide open, wishing for nothing but to crush her into his chest.

“Maka, are you alright?”

“Soul?”

His steps faltered, stopping a few meters before her. His heart flipped backwards.

Something was wrong.

“Maka…?”

She whipped her head towards his direction when hearing his hesitant call, but something was terribly wrong.

Her eyes were not on him.

“Soul?” Maka called again, frantically crawled her way to him helplessly and stumbled on her own foot like a lost child in the darkness. “Soul, where are you?”

“I’m… here…” he answered, but his voice was shaking, horrified by a very disturbing idea of what could possibly have happened to her.

“I can’t see you! Why is it so dark in here?” Now fear was creeping into Maka’s voice; the same fear that was slowly eating his heart.

It couldn’t be…

The creepy Professor’s face suddenly appeared in his mind, right eye a synthetic and the left another person’s.

Mrs. Kamiko’s words rang coldly inside his ears:

_“There is always a price to pay when humans step into God’s domain.”_

No…

No…

Not her…

Not her!!

“Maka…” he whispered in horror, cupping her face and fearfully lifted it. “Your eyes…”

Both of those eyes widened. The realization that was stubbornly being denied by both of them was hitting her in full force. The beautiful green eyes that were once bright and sparkling with confidence were now shaded in milky fog. Dull, clouded, and dead like a dirty broken glass.

“Soul… What happened to me?”

Soul was afraid to give her an answer.

“My—Soul, I can’t… I can’t see…”

God really did enjoy torturing him, apparently.

If only the stupid deity could give all the casualties strictly to him.

“MAKA! SOUL!” Black☆Star’s voice boomed from somewhere, while Crona’s deranged cries of Medusa’s name echoed from the other side.

Soul couldn’t care less about what happened around them. The most important thing was to wrap the helpless blind girl in front of him in his arms and protect her from the world.

“Oi, Tiny-tits! What’re you doing, braiding each other’s hair?! Get your scrawny butt over here, we still have homunculi’s asses to kick!” Black☆Star yelled, suddenly standing between them and the homunculi with a protective stance.

Neither Maka nor Soul could answer that. Soul could tell that their lack of response made Black☆Star instinctively turn around to actually see them—to see Maka and her lifeless eyes, because two seconds after that he sensed a silent fury radiating from the automail engineer. He was no alkahestrist like Maka, but even he could sense that something very wrong was bubbling in Black☆Star’s soul.

It was trembling in wrath.

True to his thought, Black☆Star leapt forward with a bone-chilling berserker roar.

* * *

Maybe Liz had underestimated the immortal creature.

The blinding light of her friends’ alchemy chain had divided her attention for a second. It would’ve been nothing if she was fighting normal enemies, but the one they fought against was a homunculus.

That was why she was currently crushed within the Homunculus’s bear hug, her left arm useless after being dislocated by the Sloth. Now she could only sneer, being dragged around to be the bastard’s human shield. Damn, even Patty couldn’t aim if he kept flailing her around like this.

Liz glanced at her sister, who was standing rigidly with a Beretta aimed at them, silently waiting for a chance.

“I heard him say your name,” Homunculus Sloth smirked. “Elizabeth, he said.”

Liz held herself from kicking the homunculus in the family jewels. She could be crushed to death if the idiot doubled over in pain.

“Hey, Free, wanna bet?”

The Sloth paused to raise his tattooed eyebrow, clearly interested. “What bet?”

“You stand still 100 yards from my sister, and we can bet if she can shoot you right in the middle of your eyes or not. I bet she can, by the way.”

“Whaaat? Why me? Why don't you?”

“Hey, if you win, I could be dead, and even if you lose, you won’t be dead. That’s already a mighty advantage for you! Or what, you’re afraid you’d lose?”

He frowned, pursing his lips and humming as his brain cell worked. “If you put it like that, I really don’t have anything to lose. Well, I can’t die anyway. Go on!”

Ah, thank god he was stupid.

Liz exchanged one faint nod with Patty. She prayed for her glee to not leak out and eventually alerted the stupid immortal. There was no way Patty would fail, Liz thought with pride.

Patty’s hand was steady, there were completely no tremors on the Beretta she aimed. Her face was utterly expressionless, eyes darkened, jaw set. So was her big sister’s. There was no fear, no anger, no nothing as she watched her younger sister aim her handgun at her.

Or more precisely, at five centimeters to her right, where Free‘s head was.

Patty’s Beretta went off so melodiously as Liz tilted her head a bit to avoid the blood that was splattering out of Free’s head. With a precise motion, she wiggled herself free from the collapsing homunculus. One quick jump and she was already clutching her discarded shotgun with her good hand.

“You’re a sly woman, Eliza—” The Sloth flew back to the nearest wall with a sickening splat, the shotgun in Liz’s hand was smoking.

“There’s only one person who’s allowed to call me that name.”

Liz continued to fire her shotgun, using her thigh as an anchor to pump it instead of her useless left hand. When she ran out of bullets, Patty strolled over without fear, poking the disfigured corpse with her Beretta. 

“I think he’s really dead.” She tilted her head. “Whoa, Sissy, look!”

Liz bent over beside her sister, watching each splattered tissue of the Sloth slowly dissipated into dust. Well, even if Kid’s berserk act earlier had certainly played a key part—he must have ripped out a ton of the homunculus’s souls, but still.

“Sweet, we killed an immortal.”

* * *

“Is that guy even human?” the newly arrived Ford blurted out, completely gobsmacked.

Well, Soul couldn’t blame the Lieutenant for saying that.

Black☆Star was currently fighting _two_ homunculi. And he wasn’t losing.

The Black Blood within Soul giggled without a sign of stopping, its sound a notch shy from insane. It was only the knowledge of a blind girl within his arms that prevented him from flipping his switch as well.

_‘What’s wrong with you, Soul? Look at that! Look at that! How glorious! Jump into that stage and unleash your blood!!’_

The Demon’s giggle was getting louder. Maka’s grip on his chest tightened, as if restraining him.

Shit. Was it _him_?

Soul gritted his teeth as Black☆Star launched Ragnarok like a missile in Crona's direction.

He knew that fighting style; the cold-blooded killing machine with no regards to anything except the enemy they were supposed to kill. He knew. He was one. After all, it was the Star Children the Black Blood project modeled after.

Still, an imitation was nothing compared to the real deal.

Who could say Crona was _Wrath_ when Black☆Star existed?

“We have to do something!” Ford urged. “He won’t last for long! He completely ignored his own injuries and his enemies are immortals!”

“Even if you say that…” Harvar retorted. “How can you keep up with that?”

Soul grimaced. Harvar was right. Even he couldn’t guarantee that he could keep up with the Star Child after he flipped his switch.

“We have to think, then! There must be something about those immortals!”

“They aren’t that immortal, apparently,” came a voice from behind.

Soul turned to see the elder Thompson limping in, supported by her sister, both covered in cuts and bruises. The Reaper Colonel was right at their side. He instinctively buried Maka closer, sensing her reluctance to interact with anyone yet.

“We just killed one!” chirped the younger sister, raising a hand to do a V sign.

“What—how?!”

“Well, keep killing them until they stay dead, apparently.”

Before anyone could answer the totally revolutionary solution, Black☆Star crashed hard a few meters before them.

“Crap! Star!” The Reaper Colonel jumped forward to engage the homunculi before they could launch a final attack at the engineer.

Soul cursed lowly. Harvar and Ford both had run out of ammunition, since reversing the circle and giving back the citizens' souls also meant bringing the remaining chimeras back as well. The Gunslinger Sisters were both injured, and there was no telling if Black☆Star could still fight. And he… he couldn’t leave Maka there. He just couldn’t!

“Soul…”

Soul immediately turned all of his attention to her, gently shifting her position so he could take a better look at her face. “Maka… Hey…”

“Soul… We can help…”

What?

“I can still fight, with your help…”

_What the hell was she saying?!_

“Maka, you can’t—!!”

“I can’t.” She squeezed his hand, her voice growing stronger by every syllable. “I can’t, but we can! Soul, if we resonate, you can be my eyes!”

“What…” Surprise washed over him. It was mesmerizing, almost ethereal, to see a pair of dead eyes lighting up with a fire from within.

Soul was filled with exasperation. Every fiber of his being just screamed ' _NO!!!'_ But he also couldn't help the silent amazement that seeped through his chest.

She really was amazing.

Anyone else in her place would think about nothing but despair and devastation. They would not want to do anything, least of all going back to the fight. But this girl… This girl just buried all of her misery and decided to be brave.

So of course he took her hand, and obediently turned into a scythe in her hands. For what felt like the first time, he became her light.

Together, they danced along the Dragon Path.

* * *

“It’s like they’re dancing,” commented Patty, watching Maka swaying the giant scythe and sending alkahestry transmutations to the homunculi. She wasn’t wrong.

Kid didn’t realize his own exhaustion until after Maka and Evans took over the fight.

Crap, he wasted too much energy on that Free bastard. Why hadn’t the others come anyway? They really could use some help. Especially Professor Stein.

He limped over to Black☆Star, half praying that he had snapped out of his berserker rage. “Black☆Star!”

The automail engineer didn’t budge.

“Black☆Star! Come on, dammit! Maka needs us!!”

Finally, he started to stir. “I fucking hear you, dipshit!” Black☆Star spat at him between his gritted teeth.

“Well, you’re welcome. No need to thank me for saving your life.”

Black☆Star growled. “Don’t test my patience, Morton! There are gonna be _children_ around me soon and I have to learn to keep a filter on my fucking mouth!” the automail engineer barked annoyedly before he stopped dead. “Oh, shit, I haven't done a good job of it today, have I?”

Shaking his head, Black☆Star swayed up, ready to charge once again.

“I’ll assist them; you guys keep calling the rest!” Kid barked at his underlings.

“Yes, Sir!”

Kid leapt over with both circles ready, ripping _eight_ souls from the Gluttony in one quick attack. He smirked for a second before he wobbled. Shit. He froze for a moment too long, missing the chance to guard against Gluttony.

In a flash, Maka was in front of him, blocking Gluttony with Evans’ hilt and stabbing the giant blade into the homunculus’s body. Light green angel wings sparked, sending with it an electrical shock. The Gluttony doubled over and floundered like a fish out of water, blood spurting from each of his holes.

“Holy crap, Maka, what did you do?” Kid couldn’t stop himself from blurting.

She only shrugged, turning to him. “Just wrecking over his energy flow.”

Kid gaped. That was just like his own alchemy, but done with alkahestry principles. There was amazement bubbling in him, but the chill that ran down his spine drowned the feeling.

Wow. When did she turn into a cold-blooded fighter?

Sometimes he forgot that she was the daughter of the Angel of Death.

But then her slight swaying caught Kid’s attention. She was… she looked like she just bathed in blood. How could he not have realized that? Yet, before Kid could say anything, she already charged forward, because Gluttony was already standing.

* * *

Spirit was furious.

Well, not even the word furious could represent what he felt.

Had Marie not been there to stop him, he would’ve flipped over the entire city to search for Frank and killed him right then and there.

He had _trusted_ the man! Even if they had so many different thoughts and beliefs, Spirit trusted him to keep Maka safe! And what did the insane alchemist do? He brought his beloved daughter right into the heart of the enemy’s lair. He would not, absolutely would not forgive him.

But now, with this horrifying scene in front of him, he started to rethink his decision.

He really was stupid.

It was his fault, for not believing the mad alchemist in the first place, for not believing that there was a huge transmutation circle being made under East City. It was his fault for ignoring the alchemist’s theory that what he’d been fighting against wasn’t a mere rogue alchemist, wasn’t a mere corrupted human with a wicked mind. They were really unthinkable creatures such as homunculi and human chimeras. A fault that nearly cost him three hundred and twenty thousand lives of innocent people.

It was his fault, for not believing what his beloved wife had been doing, for not really thinking about how deep a problem his wife had tried to fix was, for not helping her out of those cursed labs in Ishval. A fault that had cost him his wife’s life.

And now it was his fault, for not believing his own daughter when she said that her Mama was alive, for locking her up and not letting her search for her beloved mother.

Because right now, Spirit saw with his own eyes that the woman he loved was alive, missing a left arm, and was in the hand of a homunculus.

Homunculus. An immortal creature, because he didn’t die even after Spirit shot him right on his forehead.

“Spirit…”

It was her delirious whisper of his name that set his entire body on fire. He would’ve charged blindly at the bastard if Marie hadn’t held his arm and the injured Frank didn’t squeeze his shoulder.

He really was stupid.

“You’re not bad, huh,” the homunculus bellowed to Frank, flailing a hand with Ouroboros tattoo on it. “Fighting you is real fun! But alas, my work here’s done, just hopped off to pick up something.” He jerked the woman in his arms. Spirit’s sneer turned into a feral growl.

The homunculus shifted his attention to him, his smirk widened, “Aaaah, yeah, yeah, Major General Albarn.” He tossed Kamiko over his shoulder and taunted, “This thing’s ours now, unfortunately. If you want it back, hunt us, we’re always up for a little game of tag.” Without warning, the wicked creature jumped, and within a second was already atop the buildings.

“M’not gonna hide either. Name’s Giriko the Greed! Maybe next time we’ll take that little daughter of yours as well!” Greed’s maniacal laughter rang as the creature jumped out of sight.

Spirit’s eyes were red.

He promised, he would skin those creatures alive, over and over, before he made them into a pool of blood.

“Spirit!” Frank shouted, shaking him urgently. “Fucking snap out of it! Maka still needs us!”

The name of his daughter was the only thing preventing him from breaking Frank’s nose ten times over.

* * *

“Maka…?”

“I’m okay, Soul. Just one more time!”

Soul didn’t know if he could grit his teeth or burst into tears when he was a scythe.

Respecting her fighting spirit, he kept his mouth shut. She leapt high and impaled the Gluttony right on its chest. With a cry of frustration, Soul unleashed Maka’s alkahestry and amplified it a hundred times over, making numerous scythe blades extruded from Gluttony’s body.

It was the final attack on the Gluttony. Not because the homunculus was going to die, but because her body couldn’t hold it any longer.

But thank god, miracles tend to happen to those who least expect it.

Right after Maka pulled him out of Gluttony, Kilik and Jackie were there, frying the homunculus to death with their double fire alchemy. On the other side, the creepy professor was assisting Black☆Star. He would know that the others were starting to gather up around them, but Soul couldn’t care less.

Irrelevant.

He transformed just in time to catch Maka’s limp body. Every fight and emotion had left her, leaving only a battered girl who slumped in his arms like a broken doll.

She was so tiny.

“Why do I begin to miss your eyes now that I can’t see you anymore?” she whispered deliriously without any emotion whatsoever, tears pouring silently from her lifeless eyes.

He was absolutely not crying.

“You have beautiful eyes, Soul.” Her voice was so low that he almost failed to catch it.

Almost.

* * *

The first thing Black☆Star was really aware of was his wife's watery eyes.

He vaguely remembered his and Kilik’s long drive back to Gallows Hill. He didn't remember the rest.

He didn't see anything. Just Tsubaki's eyes.

She didn’t say anything. Neither did he. 

Her arms were around him, and Black☆Star just stood there, frigid, unrelenting to her warmth, because he didn't deserve it.

"I failed you."

Tsubaki tightened her hug, her shoulders shaking from her effort to stop her tears.

"No, you didn't," she replied, her voice thick with suppressed emotion. Black☆Star always hated when she used that voice. "You promised me she would come back alive. You did it. She is home."

Gritting his teeth, Black☆Star snapped, "I promised to bring her back in one piece!! I failed!! I FUCKING FAILED!!! EVEN AFTER TURNING BACK INTO A MONSTER, I FAILED!!"

Tsubaki's soft cries were now audible. The stubborn rigidness born from his effort to stay strong suddenly left his body, leaving him slumping into his wife's shoulder in defeat.

He couldn't even deny that there was a hot trail of tears running down his cheeks. Damn it. Black☆Star did not cry. No one had seen him cry besides Tsubaki, but dammit, _Black_ _☆_ _Star did not cry!_

Yet, that was the first time he cried after the incident ten years ago.

"I failed you, Tsu. I failed both of you…"

* * *

“Your posture is terrible.”

Soul paused his piano playing and turned at the voice with a little start, finding the Albarn patriarch standing behind him, his face unreadable.

“Well, s’not like I have a teacher,” Soul replied, shrugging.

He was contemplating whether to continue playing or to retreat back to his room, because his conversations with Spirit Albarn always turned out to be a pain, but before he could choose neither, he felt big hands placed on his shoulders.

“Your back must be straight. Loosen your shoulders. And rise your elbows slightly above the keys,” Spirit directed behind him, awkwardly correcting his posture.

Perplexed, Soul actually let him do what he wanted, allowing his body to be guided by the older man. Inwardly, he was wondering if Spirit had eaten the wrong food. Maka’s father was never nice to him. He tended to treat him as if he was something akin to horse droppings.

“Now try again,” Spirit commanded.

Still baffled, Soul played the piano again. He was slightly delighted to find his new posture easier to play with. He continued to play, missing the way Spirit’s eyes swarmed by a mix of smile and regret. The piece Soul was playing was an old scribbling he discovered among Maka’s library months ago, a sonatina[1] that he actually liked and found easy enough for a beginner.

“You’re good,” commented Spirit as the last note rang in the air.

“Uh, thanks…” Soul mumbled unsurely, still confused with the Major General’s sudden change of behavior. “...Sir,” he added after a second of hesitation.

Silence fell between them. Soul was never the best in starting a chat, and to be honest, he didn’t think Spirit was that good either. Well, at least when the other party was of the same gender. So both of them just sat there, lost at how to break the ice.

“It was mine, you know,” Spirit suddenly said, his voice a little weird, as if he was surprised he was willing to talk. Soul sent a questioning glance, and Spirit sighed, “That piece you just played.”

Soul’s eyebrow rose. “Oh…”

“Yeah.”

“Uh… it’s a good piece,” Soul complimented lamely, partly annoyed with himself because ‘good’ was far from the astonishment he felt the first time he heard the piece.

Spirit nodded a little thanks, and silence took over them once more. Soul refrained from fidgeting, stealing a peek at the Albarn father every other second. He looked just as awkward, apparently.

Soul sighed inwardly. Wes would know what to say, for sure.

“Thank you…” finally Spirit’s whisper sliced the silence.

Soul raised his head, voicing a nonverbal question.

“For staying at her side…”

_Ah._

“And for… for bringing her back…”

If he was feeling awkward before, now Soul was completely lost at what to say or do. He didn’t even think that he deserved gratitude, because he had failed Maka so horribly. So he just zipped his mouth into a thin line.

“I know how you feel,” Spirit said, his tired chuckle took Soul’s attention. “I had felt it too.” He exhaled, smiling ruefully at Soul’s inquiring eyes. “The guilt of failing the one we love is quite brutal.”

A gasp escaped Soul’s mouth at the implication. “I—uh—what are you—?”

“It’s a hundred years too early to think that you could hide your feelings from me, kid.”

Spirit was staring at him with knowing eyes and… dare he said, a hint of smugness, an expression that should’ve puzzled him considering Spirit’s streak as a helicopter dad _and_ the glum atmosphere between them. But the father had become so weird that day, so Soul just ducked his head and berated himself for carelessly displaying his emotion. He should start to hide it better.

Spirit ignored Soul’s embarrassment as he continued, “When Kamiko first left me, I was devastated. But that feeling paled in comparison to what I felt when the news of her death reached my ears. It got so much worse when I realized I could have done something to prevent that.”

Still silent, Soul cringed inwardly, forcing his face to stay calm as his heart did the leap from embarrassment to self-loathing. He had tried his best to suppress those feelings, dammit.

As if knowing what was brewing inside Soul’s head, Spirit said under his breath, “I’m hardly in any position to blame you, kid. And I’m even less qualified to say you shouldn’t blame yourself.” He stepped forward and reached for Soul’s head, lightly ruffling his hair. “But know this, boy: both of us still have a chance. And we’ll fight together to make things right again.”

Soul was still staring at his knuckles as the sound of the Albarn father’s footsteps quietly left the room.

He touched his hair, and again, tried his best to keep his eyes dry.

* * *

"Can't you do something, Frank?" Marie said, staring at him with sadness filling her amber eye.

This was one of the moments when Frank hated that she always expressed her emotion so openly, because seeing that somber eye stirred something unpleasant in Frank's gut.

"I can't, Marie."

"But why?!" she protested. "Isn't it the same with—with what happened to you? You know it worked with us, so why not Maka too?"

Repressing a sigh, Frank lifted his hand to lightly touch Marie's cheek, thumb rubbing under her remaining right eye; the pair of his left one.

"I still haven't forgiven you for giving it to me, Marie."

Marie's face was swarmed with surprise and guilt, but then she thinned her lips and put on a stubborn face. "I had to!"

Frank tore himself away from her. As always, emotion wasn't his favorite thing to talk about, nor it was his expertise.

Instead, he told her the difference between his and Maka's predicaments, "The Truth took both our sights, yeah. But what Truth took from me was physical. Easily replaced. What Truth took from Maka was her latent ability to see. She lost the connection between her eyes and her brain. That kind of thing couldn't be fixed with my current medical knowledge, Marie. We need a miracle."

She was already crying before he finished talking. Both of them knew Frank N. Stein didn't believe in miracles, yet both of them knew he wished for it anyway.

"She's just a little girl, Frank! She's just a child!" she sobbed. "This is not her fault!"

Frank pulled her to his chest.

"I'm sorry, Marie…"

* * *

Everyone was silent.

Oscar had forgotten when was the last time their team had a meeting under the pressure of this much grimness.

Oscar couldn't even find it in him to be proud of his counter-plan. It had succeeded, but they had also lost.

Because Major General Albarn and Professor Stein had told them everything about their encounter with another homunculus the day before. That, and the fact that Mrs. Albarn really was alive.

Their fight wasn't over.

"Even though the bastard who killed my father had already died, we couldn't stop," started Colonel Morton. His voice was calm as always, but there was unmistakable fury brewing under it. "There is certainly a bigger, stronger threat that controls those homunculi. We have to defeat all of them to make sure Amestris is safe."

"Yes, Sir," all of them said at the same time, quieter and graver than their usual shout.

Because all of them had not forgotten about what happened to the Albarn daughter.

Their team had carried a lot of independent missions, with or without outsider's help, but this was the first time they experienced severe casualties.

It slapped them back to reality that they were not playing with humans. What they fought against were inhuman beings. 

They were playing with death.

Yet, among all of those overwhelming things, there was a foreboding that poked behind Oscar's mind.

He would have to double check something later.

"Amusing how that Pride woman's objective was to attain the gift of alchemy, huh, Ford?" Harvar said in a low voice when Colonel Morton dismissed them.

As always, Harvar was so blunt. Maybe that was the reason why Oscar considered him his best friend, because he was also as blunt when he wanted to.

He heard the implication behind Harv's question.

He, too, had a brilliant mind, more than enough to be a better alchemist than most people with the State Certification. He, too, was someone who had deprecated God for not giving him the gift of alchemy. And he, too, would sacrifice everything he had if it could give him the gift.

But that was it. That was his difference with that homunculus.

If he was given the chance, he would sacrifice what was _his_. Not someone else's.

So Oscar just scoffed, seething, "I am not gonna lower myself like that. I want a gift that is inherently _mine_ , not something stolen from other people. I have _standards_ , you know?"

Yeah.

At least he had that dignity.

* * *

Maka rolled over to her side, minding her still tender ribs.

Blair meowed from somewhere around her ankles, her pumpkin bell chiming softly. 

“I started to think that you’ve been cursing us every time we left you behind, Your Majesty,” she chuckled to the meowing cat. “The missions I’ve gone on without you have always ended in disaster.”

The cat yowled smugly, agreeing. Damn cat.

“Yes, yes, you’re my lucky cat.”

Blair let out a prideful purr. 

After some time, the feline started to nudge her feet off of the bed, meowing softly and constantly pawing her to get up. Maka sighed. The cat was right. Her mood wouldn’t get better if she continued to lock herself up.

In the first week, she had been halfway to the library before she realized that reading as a way to escape reality was now a luxury she couldn’t afford.

In the third week, Black☆Star had cheerfully promised a spar when she was completely healed, only for them to realize that she was useless without Soul.

In the fourth week, she had started to meet other people. Friends and acquaintances visited her, trying to cheer her up, but she just felt like a sick child in a hospital room full of dolls. A thing that sounded enjoyable, except that she was a grown-ass woman with a Silver Pocket Watch, not an elementary school kid.

She was Maka Albarn, and Maka Albarn was nothing but independent. Unfortunately, many people had forgotten because of her current predicament.

Even Black☆Star, her _brother,_ who had always treated her indiscriminately, was having difficulties speaking to her.

She had enough of everybody’s hovering and their unspoken pity.

She had enough of her own misery.

Maka testily hopped onto the floor, her feet searching for her fluffy bunny slippers. The cat had waited for her, apparently, because she could sense the feline’s soul by her feet, hovering with patience.

She smiled as she followed the sound of Blair’s pumpkin bell, touching her way tentatively. The cat stopped every other step, waiting patiently for her.

Her pet led her through the house and out of the back door, to the back field.

“Blair? Where do you—”

Oh.

There was a very familiar double-soul at the far end of her perception range.

Blair had led her to Soul.

Smart cat.

Only him—only Soul could make her a bit better.

He didn’t hover over her, didn’t baby her, nor did he radiate any form of condolences. He didn’t even try to talk about it, which she was greatly thankful about. He did what she had done for him. He waited, quiet and patient, believing that she would talk about it herself when she was ready.

With him, she never felt like Maka the Newly Blinded Girl. She was just Maka, perfectly herself with a thick sheet of black cloth tied gently around her eyes. His big hands that were once anchored by hers now were returning the favor.

She didn’t feel a single stab of frustration or self-pity when it was him guiding her, and he never flinched away when it was her touching him.

He was _her_ anomaly, just like she was his.

“Wanna go for a ride?” he said, entwining their fingers.

The corner of her mouth was rising.

“Sure.”

Fifteen minutes later, she was latching herself behind him, with Blair’s fluffy little head poking out between them. He drove slowly, calm and quiet, as if knowing that even if she couldn’t see anything, she was enjoying the late winter air.

He took her to the ruins of Gallows Hill’s old watchtower again, apparently.

“You really do love ruins, don’t you?”

There was a snort, “Eh, makes me feel like home.”

Maka chuckled with him, but a certain thought suddenly made her silent.

“Do you miss Death City?”

If she still had her sight, she would see the slight surprise that flashed his face. Alas, she could only hear his voice, which he worked hard to sound light and playful. “Maka, there’s only rubble in there.”

Except that it wasn’t.

“Soul...”

He sighed, finally admitting his melancholy, “Yeah, I miss him.”

Maka didn’t know what to say. She felt like she would hurt him further if she said sorry. It was his decision to leave his brother and come to Amestris, after all. The last thing she could do was...

“We’ll visit him together.”

His wry smile went unnoticed by Maka, but he said lowly, "Yeah, we'll do that…"

He led her through the ruins and climbed the tower, now twice as careful to assist her. Maka smiled inwardly. He really had a talent to be helpful without being overbearing.

They sat at the same place they did the last time, when the world was still filled with colors and stars still scattered all over the sky. But even though her eyes now filled with nothing but darkness, being here with him overflowed her with contentment.

“Hey, Soul…”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you something stupid?”

She heard him snickering. “You totally could.” And that earned him a mean jab to his ribs. “Oh, god, you’re as violent as ever.”

Maka scowled, feeling her face warming. “Shut up!”

“Okay, okay,” Soul said, still chuckling, “What is it?”

Maka fiddled with her skirt, suddenly feeling shy. “How… How come you and your brother didn’t have Ishvalan names?”

“Hmmm…” his low hum reached her ears. Somehow she could feel him staring at the starry sky. Not that she knew the sky was really full of stars or cloudy that night.

But Miss Marie’s words suddenly hit her: For an Ishvalan, a name was something sacred that was given to them by their god. It was not something to be taken lightly.

Maka squeaked hastily, “I’m—I’m sorry, it’s rude of me to suddenly ask that! You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable!”

Soul snorted, whether with an amused or sarcastic look Maka would never know. “S’okay.”

Silence filled the air again as they continued to bask on Gallows Hill’s winter breeze. Ah. It would be spring soon.

She bowed her head down. Seemed like Soul didn’t have the intention to answer her. It was okay, she told herself, she wouldn’t push on anything that would make Soul uncomfortable. As always, she believed he would tell her. Someday, when he was ready.

Maka already gave up on hearing his answer when he surprised her with his voice, closer than ever, “Wes and I forgot our childhoods, our family, our village, pretty much everything we had before they took us to that place. Even our own names. The experiments were too… intense.”

Even though she couldn’t see him, she turned her face at his direction in shock, dead eyes widened with a mix of anger and overwhelming horror.

Soul’s voice was strained and a little deeper than usual, but he went on. “It was Mrs. Kamiko who gave us our new names. She used to take us to the lab’s watchtower to stargaze, saying that it reminded her of home. Of you.”

Maka smiled wryly. Stargazing. How like Mama.

“She refused to call us with numbers like the other scientists did. She asked us our names too, but at that point I honestly couldn’t remember anything besides my big brother anymore. I guess… she felt somehow responsible for that, I don’t know. So then… she gave us new ones.”

Maka’s heart did a painful flip at the mention of both her Mama’s kindness—could she even say it was kindness? —and the implication of how cruel her experiments were. How painful was it for Mama to do that? To steel her heart for the greater good?

Part of her was grateful for Soul and Wes, because they might be the cause why Mama’s heart hadn’t gotten frozen solid completely.

“She named Wes a star from Canis Major, Wezen. Because, well, Wes was very protective of me, almost like a guard dog,” he chuckled in memory, then added below his breath, “Stupid Wes…”

Maka grimaced in irony. Wezen really _was_ so protective of his little brother to the bitter end. She still couldn’t tell Soul what she had seen in the Gate of Truth. She was afraid it would break him.

She just couldn’t do that.

She vowed to take that secret with her to her grave.

“It fits, though,” Soul added wistfully, interrupting her growing guilt. “I heard that it also means ‘orphan’.”

Even without sight, Maka could feel melancholy oozing from Soul’s direction. 

As a way to lighten both of their moods, she commented, “Why did Mama choose Wezen? Usually when people talk about Canis Major, they’d think of the brightest star Sirius, wouldn’t they?”

Soul chuckled again, “Ah, well, you see, Wes wasn’t the most serious person. Maybe she just could foresee the amount of jokes and puns Wes would make if she actually named him ‘Sirius’.”

“Oh…” Maka blinked a few times before laughing with him.

“And…” Soul inhaled before continuing rather hesitantly. “She didn’t name me after a star, surprisingly. Uh, I guess it is a star? Or an astronomical phenomenon? But it’s not something we see when we stargaze, so—” he gibbered to himself.

“What do you mean? ‘Soul’ isn’t the name of any star—or planets—is it?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve never told you, but uhh… ‘Soul’ is actually just a nickname my brother gave to me, like how I call him ‘Wes’ instead of Wezen,” he said a little sheepishly, making Maka squeak a ‘what?!’ in bafflement. She heard him shift and scratch something softly.

“It’s from the sun.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah…” he breathed, sounding a little anxious and shy. There was something hitting a surface in a soft rhythm, his feet, probably. “Wes forgot many things but somehow he remembered that I was born in mid-winter, somewhere between 21 and 22 December. Mrs. Kamiko had said that it is the day of death and rebirth of the sun, and considering I was probably dead at one point and was rebirthed as the first successful Human Weapon, she named me—”

“—Winter Solstice…” Maka completed his sentence, voice quieted with awe. It matched the nickname.

It was then when she fully understood the meaning behind his symbol. A halved sun, with the upper part shining and the bottom darkened; the dead and rebirth of the sun.

A new beginning. A new hope.

 _Mama_ had wished him a new hope.

Her dead eyes were gleaming in astonishment at the general direction of his face, completely losing the way Soul’s own eyes widened and how his ears started gradating to red. The thought of his name somehow made Maka really happy, like finding the lost childhood memories inside of its treasure box. Apart from the obvious reason, she understood why Mama gave him that name, as images of snowy white hair and a set of vivid but a little surreal red eyes flooded her mind.

It was surprisingly fitting for him.

She heard Soul scratched something sheepishly, the back of his neck, maybe, like how he always did when he was embarrassed. “Just ‘Solstice’, actually.”

“It’s a beautiful name!” blurted Maka, raising her hands to search for his soft hair.

“Uh… Thanks…” Soul said, tone higher than what he usually used. “Wes often joked that Mrs. Kamiko had meant to say _Celeste_ , that asshole. So not cool,” he added a little grumble, making her giggle.

The chiming of Blair's pumpkin bell reminded them of the cat's presence. Maka sensed her pet's soul floating to where they sat, eventually plopped herself on Maka's lap, letting out a meow.

Maka petted Blair's head as the cat purred contentedly. But then she stopped dead, exclaiming, “Soul! Then that day was your _birthday_?!”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

She could hear the rolling of his eyes. “Maka, a lot of things were going on. It’s not important anyway.”

“How come it’s not important? It’s your birthday!”

He let out an exasperated 'mmmrgh…', and she could picture him making that disgruntled face he always made when he didn't want to deal with something. But Maka wouldn't have it. She knew a lot of things were happening. And the weeks that followed were filled with glumness and pity for her predicament. But she didn't like how it made him think that he was less important.

"You should've told me anyway. I could prepare a gift," she pouted.

"You already gave me a bike."

"That was not a birthday gift!" she yelled, deepening her scowl. "That was a 'thank you' gift!"

Soul just let out a groan, and Maka puffed her cheeks.

But beside her, unnoticed, Soul made his toothache grin again. “You came back…” came his soft words. “That was the only gift I needed.”

Maka's breath hitched. Before she could stop herself, her lips formed a sardonic smile, saying, "I came back as a burden, though…"

When she processed what just came out of her own mouth, Soul was growling.

"This is why I always say that for someone so smart, you are so incredibly stupid!"

From her lap, Blair let out an agreeing meow.

Maka gaped, ignoring her cat. "What did you just say?!"

But he went on, ranting, "You. Are. Dumb. Seriously, in which universe that you coming back is considered a burden?! You've been willing to put up with my freak of a body! Why would I mind if you—Argh! After all those speeches you blabbed about me not being a burden, now you said you are one?! Bullshit! Now you listen! You are _never_ a burden, got it?!"

Maka just gawked at him, perplexed. He almost never raised his voice, but in his exasperation, he was close to yelling.

"If only you could see how _devastated_ I was when I saw you being dragged to that damn Gate! Or how I felt when I saw you back! I—"

He stopped.

Both of them were silent. Him with embarrassment and her with astonishment.

But then he started again with a calmer voice, “Uh, what I wanna say is...” He paused to breathe. Even Maka could hear his gulp. “You've… you've been a huge emotional support for me these past months, so I… I’m... okay with being your emotional support too, Maka.”

Maka's mind was spiraling in a swirl of _everything_. Disbelief, embarrassment, happiness, disagreement, perplexity, fear, joy, awkwardness, guilt, and extreme bewilderment, all fused into one.

Her feelings for this kind boy beside her grew stronger and stronger until she caught the name of the feeling that overwhelmed her heart. All the weird things she had felt in these past months finally came clear.

The realization slammed her like a hammer, stupefying her.

It was love.

_Oh._

She had fallen in love with him.

Maka Albarn had fallen in love with Solstice.

Maka was always afraid of love. She had seen firsthand what came out of her parents' relationship. Although she had also seen a healthy and strong love such as her brother and his wife, she was still afraid of love.

But this boy… Soul… he was different.

The first emotion she felt when she realized her feelings was astonishment. Not fear.

He was truly determined to be her anomaly. His existence, all of it, seemed eager to prove that she was capable of love.

But be that as it may, Maka could not let her feelings show.

He had gone through so much. He had enough burden and strains. He did not need another burden.

He was a person she wished to be the happiest.

He was extremely kind and selfless, despite his constant denial. If she told him her feelings, he would certainly accept it, and he would do his best to reciprocate even though it was impossible for him to feel the same thing.

She couldn't do that.

Despite their bond, he was never hers.

Maka ran her fingers through Blair's fluffy back. Yeah. She shouldn't add her feelings to the pile of things he should carry.

So Maka declared her second vow that night within her heart.

She would bury her feelings.

“Thank you, Soul...” Maka heard herself say, composed and calm, the exact opposite of the raging storm inside her heart.

He said nothing except a shy hum.

Feeling the cold winter wind on her face, Maka declared all of a sudden in a determined whisper, “I’m going to find Mama and kick the ass of the bastard who created Medusa and all of the homunculi.”

She heard Soul humming again. A large and warm hand intertwined with hers.

Yeah. This was better.

She would dedicate her life to do that instead.

“Soul, would you come with me?”

She knew his answer before he even started to speak, but hearing it still made her unbelievably happy. There was something about his presence that never failed to fill her with confidence. Maybe that was also one of the reasons why she was so attracted to him.

“Do you even need to ask?” She felt the hand on hers tightening their hold, and a smile was thick in his voice, “I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

She felt herself smile as she let her head slump to his shoulder. Soul released their linked fingers and pulled her body closer to him instead.

* * *

With a girl he loved in his arms, Soul should be happy.

Regrettably, that was not the case. Because his head was now filled with the dilemma of his recent realization.

He loved this girl, and he wanted to be with her forever.

But saying that in front of her was the last thing Soul would do. It was an absurd step to take when things were right. And with things as they were now, that was plain unconscionable. 

Her existence, all of it, seemed eager to prove that he was capable of love.

Yet, he would die before he confessed his feelings. Because he wouldn't want her to carry this burden.

She had been through enough. She had lost enough. She just lost her fucking sight, for heaven's sake.

Furthermore, she was not an ordinary girl. She had things to do. She had wishes. She had ambitions. She had a _future_.

And most of all, _she had done enough_.

She had brought him back from the forlorn silence of Death City. She had given him a new name, a new life. She had been his emotional support, his shelter, his _savior_. She had been willing to be chained to him as his meister.

And he… he was not someone worthy to love someone or being loved, no matter what she said. He had too much baggage.

What right he had to greedily wish for her heart?

He absolutely wouldn't.

He just wasn't worthy.

So when she started to talk about the constellations she couldn't see, accompanied by Blair's meows, Soul vowed inside his heart:

He would just love her in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Sonatina: the diminutive form of sonata, often used for a short or technically easy sonata.  [ return to text ]  
> 


End file.
